Lady Luck
by GirlNextDoor
Summary: The castaways find themselves confined to the caves as a fierce storm rages outside. Tempers are tested, but Sawyers luck is about to change. Also, trouble is in store for one of our favorite castaways. Incomplete, but currently being updated!
1. Prologue

It was barely 7.30 am, but already seemed like mid-morning. The sun was bright, clear of the horizon, and surprisingly hot for the time of day, as was usually the case on tropical islands.

Sawyer was glad he'd told no one about the lagoon he and Kate had found. On a day like this (which was practically every day on this Godforsaken spit of land) it would be teeming with every single one of the 40-something survivors of the ill-fated Oceanic Flight 815. No privacy. No seclusion. No relaxation.

It would be about as tranquil as a public pool. A public pool on the weekend in the middle of summer. The sort that little kids pee in.

Yeah. Not cool.

In any case, he hadn't. It would be just him and the lagoon. Even the tramp through the mosquito-ridden jungle would be worth it once he saw the sparkling blue lake and felt the cool water on his aching back.

He swatted a bug out of his face. _Shouldn't be much further now_.

In no more than a few minutes, the sound of running water could be heard.

It was all he could do to maintain the rest of his dignity and resist the temptation to run the rest of the way, like a little kid running down to the seaside, with floater bands on his arms and a sailor hat on his head.

A rare smile forced its way onto Sawyer's face as the cool blue lake came into view. And the water was pure. As in no salt. As in not sea water. As in the best damn thing he had seen all week.

He stripped off his shirt as quickly as if he were diving into a hotel bed rather than a lagoon, and took a running jump into the refreshing water. It felt _so good!_

He surfaced and shook the drops out of his hair, so that some strands lay stuck to his forehead. Either he didn't notice or he didn't care.

He turned around and floated on his back, staring up at the cloudless blue sky, and thinking about the poor bastards back on the beach, suffering through the blistering island heat.

Sayid had once said that the island was very close to the equator, that's why it was so hot.

Sawyer smirked as he thought of everyone else practically melting on the beach, while he lay here in the cool, blue, island paradise. The caves wouldn't exactly be sub-zero either.

"I guess we both had the same idea for cooling off."

The voice startled him, and he spluttered, some water going up his nose. It was uncomfortable, but he chose to ignore it or rather, hide it. He needed the rest of his dignity. His dignity was all he had.

He righted himself quickly back into his floating position, and attempted at a nonchalant glance in the direction of the speaker, as if he hadn't heard them at first.

"Jesus, Freckles, can't a man get a little privacy?" He said, combining just enough charm and sarcasm so that he didn't sound angry, nor overly happy that she had turned up.

"Did I scare you?" Kate asked, allowing the amusement to leak into her voice, knowing how much this insinuation would irritate Sawyer.

In reply to this, Sawyer merely sent her a sly sideways glance as if to say 'Oh, don't you wish?'

Kate stood by the waters' edge for a few more seconds before losing her patience and beginning to undress.

Sawyer would have protested, in order top keep up appearances, but he was enjoying the sight far too much to worry about such little things.

Sawyer must have had a lingering expression of annoyance on his face, because Kate paused before entering the water.

"C'mon," She said. "It's a big lake."

"Be my guest." Sawyer replied after a second to collect himself, being sure to add, as always, a hint of sarcasm. "So long as you don't mind swimming in a lagoon full of corpses."

Just for a moment, Kate hesitated. She had forgotten about the bodies they had found, it appeared. But the morning was so hot, and the water was so inviting, that piranhas wouldn't have kept her out, and within seconds, she was swimming out to the middle of the lagoon.

"I may have underestimated you, Freckles." Sawyer said, although not in the least bit surprised that he had not warded her off. "There ain't many girls I know who would jump into a lake with dead folks floating around."

"I'm a complex girl, sweetheart." Kate quipped, while innocently swimming past Sawyer over to the waterfall behind him, basking in the image of Sawyer's face, screwed up in an expression of incredulous irritation.

Although Sawyers exterior reaction had been one of frustration when Kate had shown up, in truth, there was no one he would rather have shared the lagoon and beautiful morning with.

-----------------------------------------------------

Neither of them had a towel to dry off with, and didn't dare returning to camp with wet hair and clothes. People would ask where they had been, and in the end, they'd have to tell them. The kiddy-pool scenario was rearing its ugly head.

But Sawyer had no complaints. He had never been opposed to lying in the warm morning sun next to a beautiful, half-naked woman after a refreshing swim in a gorgeous blue lagoon.

But it was over all too soon, as the sun was still just as hot, if not hotter, and they seemed to dry out in minutes.

Sawyer looked back at the sparking blue lake, wondering if he should jump back in, pulling Kate with him, so they would have to dry out again before going back to camp, but quickly dismissed the idea.

The change of temperature when stepping out of the clearing and back into the jungle was noticeable, probably because they had been lying in the sun for a while. It wasn't cold, just cooler. And humid. And sticky.

Yep, this was the life.

-----------------------------------------------------

Jack breathed a huge, if slightly theatrical, sigh of relief when he spotted Kate finally emerge from the jungle and onto the beach.

"Kate?" He started across the sand to her, trying not to look too mad, but enough to get his message across. "Where have you been? I asked everyone from the caves, but no one saw you leave this morning."

"I got up early." Kate replied simply, more than a little annoyed rather than touched by Jack's concern.

Jack frowned for a second or two, debating something with himself, before speaking.

"Well, you're back now. C'mon, we're stacking the rest of the new firewood."

Kate hid her irritation and slowly and reluctantly followed Jack down to the beach.

-----------------------------------------------------

Charlie sang quietly to himself as he helped prepare that day's breakfast.

They we're having coconut. On an island. That was about as original as peanut butter and jelly.

Locke had taught him how to crack the coconuts just right so he didn't lose any of the milk, but he hadn't really caught on.

He hoped no one liked coconut milk, anyway. He sure didn't.

"…I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts… all standing in a row… big ones, small -"

His song was cut off by loud shouting coming from a little way down the beach.

Charlie stopped cracking the coconuts and squinted in the direction of the noise.

A medium-sized crowd was gathered, all facing inwards, and all shouting encouragements to whatever they were grouped around. Perhaps someone had finally pulled a gun on Sawyer.

At this thought, Charlie decided this was something he definitely couldn't miss.

His hopes and enthusiasm faded quickly, as once he got a bit closer, he saw anticipated victim standing at the back of the crowd, cheering along with everyone else.

He jogged the last few meters just as the shouting was beginning to die down, squeezing into the mass beside Shannon.

"What's all this?" he asked. Either she ignored him or she didn't hear him.

He pushed forward a bit more so the center of the crowd came into view.

The people on the inner of the group made a sort of race-track, short and rectangular, lined with pebbles and small shells. On the track were some large, exotic-looking crabs, which appeared to be racing one another to the finish line (two sticks wedged into the sand so they stood vertically, a long piece of seaweed strung between them to create the effect of a flag-banner.).

Shannon wasn't much of a conversationalist, so he fought his way along a few steps until he was standing next to Hurley, another one of the spectators.

"Crab-racing?" He asked inquisitively.

"That's right." His friend replied. "You never know what sort of crazy games you're gonna come up with until you're stranded on a deserted island."

"You made this up?" Charlie asked, receiving a nod from Hurley. He smiled, amused. Crab-racing seemed like something Hurley would find entertaining. "How do you get them to race?"

"They always walk in the direction of the ocean." He answered, never taking his eyes off the track. "Come on… come on… NO!"

A crab had just scuttled over the finish line, and it was clearly not Hurley's, judging by his anguished moan. A few of the spectators leaned in and picked up their crab, Hurley included.

His was one of the last, and continued to flail its legs in the air, as if still trying to make it under the seaweed banner.

Hurley held it up to eye level, and looked at it sternly.

"Dammit, Snappy, you let me down." He said to his crab, who snapped its claws at him a few times in protest, hence the name.

Charlie snickered to himself. He was not in the least bit surprised that Hurley had named his crab, and was willing to bet that he was the only one who had.

Remembering the winning crab, he turned to spot it scurrying down to the water's edge.

"Then whose is that...?" Charlie asked, gesturing to the runaway crab.

No sooner had he spoke, a hand reached out and snatched the crab off the ground.

"Gotcha, you little bastard." Sawyer said to the crab, retreating back to the crowd to collect his winnings. "Don't you dare try to give me the slip."

"Typical." Charlie muttered, spotting Sawyer holding the winning crab and grinning smugly.

"Pathetic excuse for a molluk." Shannon frowned as she kicked some sand at her crab, which she had allowed to scuttle back down to the moist sand by the water.

"Mollusk." Sawyer corrected as he sauntered past back to his tent at the other end of the beach. "The correct word is mollusk."

Shannon glowered after Sawyer. That's what he did; he'd purposely get up your nose, irritate people for no particular reason apart from quenching his seemingly unceasing boredom. He was a jerk, a vagabond, a cheater who didn't care about what anyone thought about him.

That's what Shannon loved about him.


	2. Tempest

An approximate four hours had passed since Boone had headed off into the jungle to go hunting with Locke.

They had managed to take down only one boar in that time that had seemed like an eternity. It always did with Locke. He never spoke when they were hunting, never even took his eyes off the trail. He was intense, alright, and sometimes it was unnerving.

Boone had been lucky enough to earn the task of carrying the heavy boar on his back as they trudged along, so that Locke would be ready, should they come across an addition to lunch.

For the first time since they had left, Locke spoke.

"We should hurry back." He said casually, apparently oblivious to the large dead boar hanging over his companion's shoulders.

"Maybe we could, if you helped me with this!" Boone snapped.

Locke ignored him, but merely pulled out a cloth and stared cleaning his knife as he picked his way through the jungle, visibly increasing the length and pace of his stride.

"Ok, I'll bite." Boone consented, struggling with the boar to keep up with Locke's quickened gait. "Why do we need to hurry back to camp?"

Locke stopped and turned on the spot, staring Boone straight in the eyes with the unnerving gaze that seemed to look straight past your face and bore into your very mind. Boone looked away, disconcerted.

"The storm." He said, as if such a fact was so blatantly obvious that it was incredible Boone had not figured on it earlier. He then promptly turned around and resumed walking back to camp, head bent over his knife, continuing to rub it with a cloth.

Boone stood still for a few seconds in stunned silence, before hoisting the boar up higher (as it was beginning to slip off his shoulders) and started a lumbering half-trot after Locke.

"Uh… excuse me?" He asked, stumbling a few times in his haste to keep up, weighed down by the corpse.

"Look." Locke said, pointing to the sky.

They had entered a small clearing, so a few bits of blue sky were partially visible through the leaves of the jungle canopy. "Not a single bird." He turned to Boone. "Wouldn't you say that's odd, this close to the ocean?"

"Well… uh…" Boone didn't really know what to say, so he settled for an awkward shrug, illustrating his point mainly with his eyebrows, as his shoulders were otherwise occupied.

"They're sheltering." Locke elaborated. "Before the storm comes."

"But…" Boone trailed off once again, still staring incredulously at the perfect blue sky. There wasn't much you could say to that.

"Can't you feel the condensation in the air?" Locke continued, smiling as he raised a hand, palm upwards, as if feeling the droplets of falling rain. "It's thick… gonna be a big one."

He said this as though the idea of a monster storm was perfectly fine, even pleasurable.

On his face was the sort of smile he was often sporting, which made you think he knew far more about the situation than he should, but his predictions were often uncannily accurate, so Boone kept an open mind.

He shifted the large carcass again, and carried on through the jungle, continuing his staggering trudge.

-----------------------------------------------------

Locke's prediction had proved all too correct, as by the time they had arrived back at the beach, dark angry clouds had taken over the gorgeous blue sky alarmingly fast, and the wind had picked up significantly.

"I think we should move everyone to the caves!" Jack was yelling over the loud roaring of the wind, speaking to no one in particular.

It didn't matter that no one had heard him though. Most people were heading there anyway. As the only solid form of shelter so far discovered on the island, the caves were the new most popular place to be.

It was almost like the day they had first landed on the godforsaken spit of land the 40 castaways had since then come to call home. Everyone was running back and forth, each to their own, trying to move the important items into the caves so they wouldn't be damaged by the rain.

Charlie noticed Shannon sitting idly on a rock, cleaning some gunk out from under her nails which had, somehow, managed to remain perfectly manicured all this time.

"Would the fine lady care to give us a hand?" He shouted over the noise the wind was creating against the palm trees, whipping at the palm fronds, blowing them so that they were all pointing in one direction. His voice oozed sarcasm.

Shannon merely returned his gaze steadily, as though was he was suggesting was absurd.

Charlie sighed and left her to her nail-cleaning, muttering a barely audible 'Bloody useless' under his breath.

By the time they had moved all the valuables into the cave, the wind was blowing harder still, the black clouds occasionally lighting up with a bright flash, teamed with the ominous, low rumble of approaching thunder.

This clear warning was heard by all the survivors, and they didn't need telling twice. They dropped whatever they were trying to move into the cave so they could reach the shelter faster.

"This is crazy!" Charlie shouted to Hurley as they both ran to the caves.

Hurley didn't reply, probably saving his breath for running.

They finally entered the cave at the same time as Michael and Sawyer. Being out of the wind was strange; the stillness of the air was almost eerie, especially as the wind could still be heard and the palm trees, bent double, visible through the cave mouth.

An eardrum-shattering clap of thunder sounded just as the four had passed into the shelter, alerting everyone to the sudden downpour that began, creating such a heavy sheet of rain outside that it appeared to be a waterfall over the cave mouth, and turned the sand to slush.

A nervous half-grin crept across Charlie's face.

"How's that for timing then, eh?" He said, scratching the back of his head, mainly to give him something to do.

His sentence was capped off by the cave lighting up as a crooked fork of lightning zigzagged down from the dark mass of clouds, striking the ground outside the cave only about a meter or so behind where Sawyer was standing. He let out an uncharacteristic yell, jumping away from the spot where the lightning had almost kebabed him.

"Shit!" He swore, staring the small patch on the ground where the lightning had struck, and checking himself for burns. "Son of a bitch!"

The only person who wasn't staring at the ominous view outside the cave was Locke, who was busy building a fire in the center of the cave.

Finally, the two rocks created a spark and the wood was alight, the soft firelight dancing off the pale, anxious faces of the castaways.

"This is so random." Boone whispered to Hurley, as if afraid the storm would hear. "It just came out of nowhere."

Hurley nodded in agreement, not able to speak due to a mixture of breathlessness and awe.

"Locke predicted it." Boone continued.

"Yeah?" Hurley finally managed.

"Only about an hour ago, we were in the jungle outside camp." He told him. "He said it like it was so obvious, but the sky was completely cloudless. I thought the sun must be finally getting to his head, or something."

Both Hurley and Boone shared a fain chuckle over this.

"I'm freezing dude, this is crazy." Hurley said, moving closer to the fire. "Only a few hours ago, I would've sold some major limbs for an air-conditioning system."

"You and me both." Boone agreed, following suit and joining Hurley by the fire. "But you never know what crazy thing is gonna happen next on what my sister likes to refer to as Craphole Island."

Hurley looked miserably out the cave opening at their surroundings.

"I'll have to go with her on this one." He said. Boone nodded appreciatively, clearly not at home in 'paradise', either.

A sudden thought occurred to Hurley, and he looked around, scanning the faces of the people in the cave.

"Hey, speaking of Shannon…" He began anxiously.

"What?" Boone asked, following his gaze.

Hurley looked behind him to check he hadn't missed anybody, and then double checked again. A lump rose in his throat.

"Uh, where is she?"


	3. Trouble in Paradise

The pages of Sawyer's book stuck slightly to each other as he tried to turn them, due to the condensation in the air caused by the storm.

He pushed his glassed further up the bridge of his nose, reminding himself once again how nerdy he must look. He hated wearing his glasses, but he couldn't read without them. This thought lessened his spirits even more, as it made him feel like an old man.

It was so ironic, he almost laughed out loud. A nerdy old man. It couldn't be further from how he had been feeling that morning, probably the best morning since he landed on the island, heck, maybe in his whole life, swimming in that wonderful lake with -

"Freckles!"

Kate didn't bother to correct him. He knew her name alright, but he preferred to invent his own.

"What do you want?" He asked, sounding angrier than he had meant to.

"Not quite the greeting I had expected." She remarked, sitting down beside Sawyer, leaning her back against the cave wall.

"I just almost got struck by lightning." Sawyer replied bitingly. "Sorry if I'm not radiating positive chi."

"Are you okay?" Kate asked, realizing she had neglected to ask him this before.

Sawyer grunted, turning back to his book.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'" Kate said, plucking the book from his hands and sitting on it so he couldn't get it.

Sawyer looked at her for a few seconds, then smirked.

"You gotta find yourself a better hiding place, sweet cheeks." He said. "You know I'll go under there."

But he took off his glasses anyway, folded them up and tucked them so that they hung on the front of his shirt, giving her the undivided attention that was reserved only for Kate.

"I know that sometimes-"

"Shannon!"

Kate was cut off mid-sentence by Boone's distressed cry. He had leapt to his feet, and was looking around in desperation.

"What is it?" Jack asked, also getting up, and approaching Boone. There was a fearful gleam in his eye.

"It's Shannon!" He shouted. "She's not here!"

"What?" Jack shouted, then regained his cool head. "Wait, what do you mean she's not here?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Boone yelled, growing increasingly agitated. "She's _not here_! As in somewhere else! Out there!"

He pointed to the exit of the cave, where another bolt of lightning flashed, as if just to emphasize his point.

A lump identical to Hurley's had now risen in Jack's throat. He ignored it.

"Boone, calm down!" Jack said, using his authoritive voice. "Okay? Just calm down."

He turned around to scan the faces of the cave's other occupants, all of which were now staring at him and Boone.

"Has anyone seen Shannon?" He asked, needing to yell to be sure he could be heard by everybody, as the outside sounds were still very loud.

A murmur of 'no's swept around the crowd, but all soon hushed by a loud 'yes!' from the back of the cave.

"Yes!" Said Charlie again, scrambling down from the rock formation he had been sitting on. "Only about fifteen minutes ago! She was sitting on that boulder with the flat top near the beach."

"Just… sitting there?" Boone asked, in the middle of all this?" Knowing his sister, he wouldn't be surprised.

"Well, y'know, it wasn't raining or anything." Charlie said. "Just really windy. O'course, she didn't think to help move any of the stuff, the little -"

Charlie stopped abruptly, realizing he was saying this out loud. He shut his mouth, turning a deep shade of purple.

"I have to go get her!" Boone said, starting for the exit of the exit of the cave, but Jack caught his arm and pulled him back.

"Are you crazy?" He asked. "Didn't you see what almost happened to Sawyer? You could be killed!"

"What about Shannon?" Boone shouted.

Jack stared at him, lost for words. He knew Boone was right. Shannon was helpless by herself, and what if she had an asthma attack?

"Fine." Jack consented. "Go, but -"

"I'll come with you." A voice spoke up from the back of the cave with a strong Iraqi accent.

Sayid stepped forward, speaking for the first time since they had taken refuge in the cave.

Boone stared at Sayid skeptically.

"I don't know…" He began.

"Suppose you were to get hit by lightning," Sayid interrupted. "or flying debris. There's a chance you could survive, so long as you had someone there to get you back to camp."

Boone still didn't say anything.

"Going alone would be suicide." The Iraqi finished.

After a few more seconds of consideration, Boone finally nodded his head.

"Fine." He said. "But we have to hurry."

Sayid nodded and, wasting no time, they began towards the cave mouth, taking nothing with them but the clothes on their back, for fear of being slowed down.

"Wait." Came a voice from the back of the cave, just before they stepped outside.

Boone spun around, starting to get really mad.

"What is it now?" He asked impatiently. "I have to go save my sister!"

The voice was soon identified as Sawyer's, as he got up and approached Boone and Sayid.

"I'm coming." He said, not making any move to see if this was ok.

"No." Boone said straight away. "You can play the hero another day, but this is serious."

If this comment had in anyway offended Sawyer, he didn't show it.

"Think about it this way, Tonto." He said, laying the sarcasm on thickly. "They say lightning don't strike twice in the same place. You'd be safe as houses with me."

Boone considered this for a few seconds, before he spoke.

"Try to keep up." He said, not making eye contact as he charged out of the cave, instantly saturated, with Sayid and Sawyer in tow.


	4. Hide and Seek

Shannon sucked in another raspy, half-breath of air. She tried to push herself further under the large banana leaf she was using for a makeshift shelter.

Her eyes were red and puffy; her mascara had run, creating long, dark streaks from the corners of her eyes, over her cheeks. Her hair was lank and dripping, the leaf proving of little protection.

The ground was boggy, and her feet kept getting stuck, as she slowly and carefully picked her way through the jungle. There was no way of knowing if she was going in the direction of the caves.

Shannon let out a loud scream as lightning struck the branch of a tree a couple of meters in front of her, bringing it crashing down where she could have been standing a few seconds later.

She sniffled a little, but started off again, concentrating on keeping her breathing normal, which wasn't easy.

A pool of water had formed in the middle of the banana leaf, making it heavy to hold above her head. After a few seconds thought, she dropped it on the ground, abandoning it. She was already saturated, anyway.

Lightning flashed again, causing her to give a little whimper, and an involuntary shriek when a particularly loud clap of thunder resounded through the jungle.

Her foot caught on an exposed tree root, and she stumbled, splattering herself with mud. Still, she pushed herself up again and continued.

Shouldn't she have reached the caves by now? Was she just going around in circles? There was no way she could possibly know; she didn't often navigate the jungle. She could only hope to keep walking, and hopefully come across the beach or the caves, before a bolt of lightning came across her.

-----------------------------------------------------

"Shannon!" Boone called out, as he squelched through the muddy jungle floor. "Shannon, answer me!"

"She can't hear you." Sayid said, needing to raise his own voice just to be heard. "The noise created by the storm is drowning you out."

"Well then how in the hell are we going to find her?" Boone shouted, not necessarily for the purpose of being heard over the wind.

"We look for her footprints." Sayid said calmly, without a moment's hesitation, keeping a cool head as usual.

Boone scoffed at this, thinking it ridiculous.

"Look behind you." Sayid commanded. If he was offended by his companion's skepticism, he didn't show it.

Reluctantly, Boone threw a careless glance over his shoulder.

Etched into the mud, from as far behind them as they could see, were their own footprints.

Boone promptly turned a delicate shade of scarlet, embarrassed by his misguided cynicism.

A large fork of lightning shot through the sky, causing all three hunters to tense slightly.

Sawyer, who was bringing up the rear, scanned the ground around him for footprints. There were none, apart from their own.

Lightning lit up the sky again, and again.

"Is it me," Boone began. "Or are the lightning flashes becoming more...?"

"Frequent?" Sayid finished for him. "That's exactly what I was thinking. It's getting closer."

"Are you meaning to tell me," Sawyer began, eyes wide in incredulity. "That this bitch is gonna get _worse_?"

"If you are referring to the storm," Sayid replied coolly. "Then I am afraid so."

The lightning was now almost incessant, and they had not discovered a single trace of Shannon.

A sudden, choked cry from behind them caused both Boone and Sayid to spin around.

Sawyer was sprawled face-down in the mud, unmoving, a scorch-mark burned into the back of his shirt.

"Sawyer!" Sayid gasped, as more of a statement than an exclamation, kneeling down beside him.

Boone just stared at him.

"He's been hit by lightning." Sayid pointed out the obvious, rolling him over onto his back so that, if by some miracle he was still alive, he would be able to breathe. His entire front was caked with mud.

"Is - is he…?" Boone asked shakily.

"I am not authorized to make that judgment." Sayid replied while checking him over. "Jack will be able to tell you that for sure."

"But Jack isn't here!" Boone shouted.

"We're going to have to get him back to the caves." Said Sayid, somehow remaining calm.

"But what about Shannon?" Boone asked, still yelling.

As if on cue, a high-pitched scream resounded through the jungle.

"Shannon!" Boone and Sayid shouted in unison, turning towards the sound.

Boone was about to take off through the jungle after the scream, but Sayid stopped him.  
"Wait." He said. "One of us must get Sawyer back to Jack."

"I have to go after Shannon!" Boone said immediately.

After a few seconds, Sayid gave a single nod, giving his consent, and Boone took off.

-----------------------------------------------------

"Jack!" Sayid yelled, bursting through the waterfall-like curtain of rain over the cave mouth. "Jack!"

It was a few seconds before Jack and the cave's other occupants realized that the saturated and mud-caked, blonde-haired figure being carried by the equally-saturated Sayid was not Shannon.

"Oh God." Kate was the first to rush forward, and spot the dark scorch-mark on Sawyer's shirt. "What happened?"

"He got hit by lightning." Sayid said in a rush, laying Sawyer down on the ground beside the fire. "Where is Jack?"

Kate didn't say anything. Her hand had flown to her mouth, and it looked as if she were trying not to cry.

Meanwhile, Jack had emerged from the crowd of onlookers, and dropped to his knees beside Sawyer's motionless form. He looked terrified.

Suddenly, Kate remembered to first time she'd met Jack, when she'd had to sew up a gash in his side. She had been amazed at how calm he'd been, and she'd asked him why he wasn't afraid. He had told her that when he felt scared, he would let the fear in, but only for five seconds. Then it would be gone.

Kate counted to five in her head. One, two, three, four, five. And then the fearful look was gone from Jack's eyes, and he was pulling his penknife out from his back pocket and cutting Sawyer's shirt off, tossing it aside.

There was a pink patch on his skin where the scorched part of his shirt had been, but apart from that, Sawyer didn't _look_ any different than if he had been sauntering around, calling nicknames after those who were lucky enough to merit them.

Jack leaned down and placed his ear against Sawyer's bare chest.

After a few seconds, he raised his head again, nodding, but still breathing heavily from the initial shock.

"He's breathing." Jack announced, and a resounding sigh swept around the cave, not all of them due to relief. "But only just." He turned to Sayid. "Did you give him CPR?"

"No." Sayid shook his head. "I brought him straight here."

"Ok." Jack nodded, gesturing from Sayid to Sawyer. "Tilt the head back, hold his nose and breathe in his mouth. We might be lucky."

"Jack, he got hit by lightning! Don't you have some magic-medicine you can give him, or something?" Asked Charlie, who, although he wasn't about to hop on the 'I-love-Sawyer' bandwagon, neither did he wish his death.

"Charlie, rescue breathing and CPR have some of the highest success rates with lightning victims." Jack said patiently, with the air of someone reciting from a textbook.

Sayid's insistent mouth-to-mouth didn't seem to be having any visible effects, but Charlie shut up anyway.

Jack pulled open the metal box which held all the medical supplies, to see if he had anything that could help. He checked the labels of bottle after bottle of pills and syringe refills, but to no avail.

He turned back to Sawyer's motionless form lying on the ground.

"That's enough." He said, and Sayid stood up, allowing Jack to take his place.

He placed his ear back against Sawyer's chest to make sure he could still hear his heartbeat. It appeared that he could, and he began CPR again, desperately trying to blow air into the unconscious man's lungs.

Had they been back in the civilized world, in a hospital, and had Sawyer been hooked up to a heart-monitor, the constant blip-blip-blip would have been suddenly replaced by a long, high-pitched ringing sound.


	5. Better Days Will Come

Death was like a long, dark tunnel. Sawyer had seen this portrayed in movies, but would never have imagined the uncanny accuracy.

It was pitch black, he couldn't see a thing, but he kept moving anyway, because it just seemed like standing still wasn't an option. At least he thought he was moving. It was hard to tell due to the gloom (understatement of the month).

At this time, he recalled another movie he had once seen as a teenager, in which a dying man's friends had begged him not to go towards the light.

Well, there was definitely no light. Did that mean..?

Suddenly, it seemed as though his entire surroundings (or lack thereof) were shrinking away from him, stretching away into the distance, as if he was being pulled away by an invisible rope around his middle.

He was plummeting through the darkness, no idea if he would ever stop.

And then, he slammed back down to earth. His eyes snapped open and he sat bolt-upright, pulling in huge, raspy gasps of breath. He didn't even notice his forehead smack into something as he sat up, the relief of the cool air was so great.

Jack breathed an enormous sigh of relief, rubbing the sore, pink spot on his forehead as he did so. Standing up, he wiped the sweat off his face. Sawyer was still gasping for breath, so he waited patiently for him to finish.

And then Jack began to laugh. Laugh at the immense wave of relief washing over him. He knew it probably looked wildly inappropriate, but he just couldn't help himself. It was the sort of laughter used when words could not express the extreme happiness you were feeling.

And although he would not say it out loud, the happiness was not in light of saving Sawyer's life. It was no secret that Sawyer and himself weren't about to adopt each other as brothers, and that rule still applied here. He hadn't wanted to see him die, but he hadn't necessarily wanted to save him, either.

Because when it came down to it, Jack realized that it wasn't Sawyer he'd been trying to save, it was himself. His reputation, status, credit as a doctor. If he let one patient die, it would jinx the rest, no matter who it was. Jack felt awful thinking it, selfish even, but he made sure the triumphant smile never left his face.

"You're a lucky man, Sawyer." Jack said, as Sawyer's breathing was beginning to return to as close to normal as can be expected after such an ordeal. "A lucky, lucky man."

Sawyer didn't reply, partly due to shock, and partly due to breathlessness.

"Here." Jack said, picking up some thick, woolen blankets to give to Sawyer. "Keep warm. You'll be in shock for a few hours, I suggest you get some rest," He knelt down to give him the blankets, adding in a low voice so that only Sawyer could hear. "Then we'll talk."

-----------------------------------------------------

Boone tore through the jungle in the direction he had heard the scream. Correction, where he had thought he'd heard the scream. There were so many echoes in the jungle; you could never tell for sure where a noise was coming from. He would just have to cross his fingers and hope that he was running in the right direction.

"Shannon!" He called as he sprinted through the undergrowth, nearly tripping over a fallen branch. "Shannon, where are you?"

"Help!" Came the faint, choked cry from somewhere up ahead. At least now he knew that he was going the right way.

He had grown used to the rain, wind, thunder and lightning, but the droplets were still pounding against his face as he ran, the ground was still a sloppy swamp of quicksand-like mud, and the fact still remained that if he wasn't careful, he and Shannon could end up like Sawyer.

He wondered briefly if Sawyer was still alive, but brushed it off almost instantly. There were much more pressing matters at hand.

-----------------------------------------------------

Sawyer sat by the fire, huddled up in the blankets Jack had given him. His breathing was sharp and shallow, and he'd had to stop himself twice now when he'd started to hyperventilate.

He hadn't bothered to get his shirt back from Jack, but he wished he had, now. Even right beside the fire, wrapped up in a couple of layers of thick wool, it was really cold.

"Feeling better?" A friendly voice asked.

"What do you think?" He replied bitterly.

"Right." Charlie said, boldly plopping himself down beside Sawyer. "I guess it's a bit soon for that."

"Whaddya want, Ringo?" Sawyer asked rudely. He wished he had a cigarette. Or better still, a whole _pack_ of cigarettes.

"I'm here to give you some company." Charlie replied enthusiastically, undeterred by Sawyer's rudeness. "Thought you might be lonely."

"I'm always lonely, Chuckles." Sawyer said, a faint tough of regret seeping through in his voice. "Always have been, always will. Get used to it."

Charlie blinked, a little stunned by Sawyer's confession, but still, he pressed on.

"But… you don't _have_ to be lonely."

"Its how I choose to live my life." Sawyer replied simply.

Charlie was silent for a few seconds as he took this in.

"Being lonely all the time…" He thought aloud. "It must be really… well, lonely."

Sawyer offered a small grin and me his gaze for the first time since Charlie had come to sit with him.

"No shit." He replied.

Charlie began to stand up.

"But if you really want me to leave…" He trailed off.

"No!" Sawyer blurted out before he could stop himself, and turned a delicate shade of pink. "I mean, y'know… it's a free island." He mumbled. "Do whatever you want."

"Actually," Jack had emerged from the crowd and started walking over to them. "If you don't mind, Charlie, I'd like to have a word with Sawyer."

"Oh." Charlie said, deflated a little. "Uh, sure." He turned and stalked off, upset that he had been stopped when he was so close to cheering Sawyer up.

Jack crossed his legs, taking Charlie's place beside the fire.

"I appreciate you losing the smurf," Sawyer began. "But I guess you're gonna talk to me now, huh?"

"You just got hit by lightning, after narrowly escaping it the first time." Jack said, ignoring Sawyer's remark.

"You know, Doc, I think that breakthrough may just put you up for a Nobel Prize-" Sawyer said, his voice dripping sarcasm as usual.

"I want to know why." Jack cut him off. "The lightning didn't get near anyone else. Why you?"

"You're the doctor." Sawyer replied, purposely being as unhelpful as possible. "You tell me."

"Part of my job as a doctor is to ask you what you know." Jack answered calmly, unabashed.

"Well, you're wastin' your time, Doc." Said Sawyer, turning away from him. "I ain't got nothing on it."

As he turned, something around his neck caught in the firelight, drawing Jack's attention as it shone.

"What's that?" He inquired.

"What?"

"Around your neck."

Sawyer caught sight of the copper chain around his neck.

"Won it in a crab race." He replied. "What's it to you?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Sawyer!" Jack held his head in his hands. "Copper? In a lightning storm? I never thought anyone, not even you could be that stupid!"

Sawyer didn't say anything. He wasn't used to being insulted, to his face, anyway, and least of all by the good doctor.

But he heard what he was saying. He hadn't remembered the chain that he had won this morning until just now, and he would never admit it, but he _felt_ stupid.

Jack got up and walked away, shaking his head in disbelief, and Sawyer stared after him.

It had been a big day, especially for him, and all Sawyer wanted to do was sleep. So, rearranging his blankets so they were under him as well as on top, he lay down in front of the fire, and did just that.


	6. Heart to Heart

Everyone in the cave spun around hopefully as they heard someone stumble through the 'waterfall'.

There could be no mistake this time that the sniffling, blonde-haired figure was indeed Shannon.

Boone set her down by the fire beside Sawyer, who was still sleeping soundly.

"Shannon!" Jack appeared by her side, seemingly out of nowhere, as he normally did when he felt his skills were required. "Are you alright?"

"I lost a shoe." Shannon said in a little voice, sniffling a bit as she did so.

Jack stared at her for a second; incredulous that a lost shoe could be the first thing on her mind, but Boone merely smiled and rolled his eyes.

Amazingly, Shannon sat perfectly still and waited patiently while Jack checked her over for cuts that might get infected, or signs of pneumonia.

Looking around for the first time since her brother had brought her back to the caves, she caught sight of Sawyer lying on the ground by the fire, fast asleep.

"What happened to him?" Shannon asked, gesturing to the deathly pale man wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets.

"Lightning strike." Jack replied briskly. "Can you turn your head?"

Shannon obliged, but her eyes never moved from Sawyer.

"Is he… okay?" She asked, realizing that it must have been when he was out looking for her that he got hit. Guilt washed over her.

"He's fine now." Jack said, his tone of voice betraying the fact that he was dying to add; 'Thanks to me.', but he didn't.

"He was looking for me, wasn't he?" Shannon asked, feeling more and more guilty all the time. "That's why he was out of the cave."

"Don't blame yourself." Jack replied, continuing to check her over. "The idiot was wearing a copper chain."

Shannon's mouth fell open, in which time Jack took the opportunity to examine the inside with a flashlight. Even _she_ had had the sense to take off her silver earrings when she'd started to hear thunder.

"Can't believe it?" Jack asked, taking in her shocked expression. "Neither could I." He suddenly stopped his examination. "Okay, looks like you're gonna be fine. Just rest, make sure you stay by the fire and keep warm."

Jack got up and retreated to the back of the cave to talk with Boone in private. Shannon drew her knees up to her chest and stared into the brilliant flames of the roaring fire. She was bored already.

"Sucks, don't it?" Sawyer said suddenly, causing Shannon to jump.

""How long have you been awake?" She asked, adding silently to herself; _And how much did you hear?_

"Don't worry, Sticks." Sawyer replied with a smug grin, as if reading her mind. "I didn't hear nothin'."

Shannon felt her cheeks go red, and she turned away to hide them as Sawyer pushed himself into a sitting position.

"So," He continued. "They finally found you. Where were you hiding this time? Under a -"

"What the hell do you know?" Shannon swung around, fury blazing in her cold eyes. "If by hiding you mean fighting through a thunder storm, trying to find my way back to cavetown, with no shelter but a friggin' banana leaf, then yeah, I guess I was hiding!"

Sawyer blinked, surprised by Shannon's sudden outburst. But she hadn't finished.

"But that seems like a kinda unusual definition, wouldn't you say? So don't you dare come accusing me of shit when you don't have a clue!"

Sawyer quickly regained his composure, and lay back down, hands behind his head, fixing his eyes firmly back on the cave ceiling.

"What'd I push a PMS button or something?" He replied sarcastically. "Just struck me as odd is all."

Shannon turned away again, fuming.

"Hey, you're awake." Sawyer looked up to see Kate's friendly face smiling at him. Shannon looked up to, but did not return her greeting as Sawyer did. Kate noticed Shannon's cold expression, and faltered.

"I'm sorry…" She trailed off, unsure. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No." Shannon replied with the equal force she pushed herself to her feet with. The short time she had spent by the roaring fire seemed to have sufficiently dried her off, so she saw no further reason to stay. She glared daggers at Kate as she passed but refused to look at Sawyer. "You're not interrupting anything at all."

Kate stared after her in bewilderment as she stalked off towards the back of the cave, purposely keeping out of Jack's sight. She plopped herself down beside Sawyer with the rare ease that only she had ever managed to achieve with the man.

"Um… did I do something?" Kate asked, casting a cautious glance in Shannon's direction, who was sulking at the back of the cave, knees drawn up to her chest.

"Naw, she's just…" Sawyer wasn't quite sure how to finish his sentence, so he settled for an awkward, lopsided grin. It wasn't that he didn't know what was eating her; unfortunately, he could take a good guess and bet he was right, but he didn't want Kate thinking that he was otherwise occupied.

"You scared me." Kate said eventually, a nervous chuckle.

"Aw, Gosh, Freckles." Sawyer said, his carefully constructed mocking tone betraying just a hint of surprise. "And here was me thinking you didn't care."

Kate stared back at him, her face a mask of sadness. _Of course I care._ She didn't say a word out loud, but her message was all too clear.

Sawyer sighed. "I'm sorry." He said, turning away from her, and for a rare moment, it looked like he actually meant it.

"You're really lucky, you know." Kate said, hastily changing the subject. "Jack saved you."

"He didn't save me." Sawyer replied bitterly. "Sure, he got me breathing again, did what any decent human being would do, but who he was actually intending to save, was himself. Don't get me wrong, I ain't tryin' to be prejudiced, he saved my life an' I'm grateful, but it was just a happy accident."

"Jack saving your life wasn't an accident." Kate replied hotly. "He's a doctor, that's what he does."

"Hmm." Sawyer replied, unconvinced. "He may have started my heart again, but my life is beyond repair, Sweetheart, and there ain't no one who can save that, not even the good doctor."

Kate looked at him sadly, her eyebrows slanting downwards in an expression of utmost sympathy combined with her angelic innocence.

It was the face Sawyer had fallen in love with.

-----------------------------------------------------

Hurley sat cross-legged on the other side of the fire, poking it with a stick. He'd never been so bored. The storm had been raging for a few days now, and it seemed unlikely that it would ever stop. Even if it did, they were still all stuck in here until Mother Nature finally decided they had been punished enough.

The fronts of Hurley's legs were beginning to feel a bit sunburned, so he moved just out of the fire's heat to sit by Charlie, who was staring absentmindedly at nothing in particular. The small, British man acknowledged his friend with little more than brief eye-contact, then continued to stare at the nothingness that so fascinated him.

For a while, they merely sat in complete silence, the soft firelight dancing off their stony features.

Finally, it was Hurley who broke the tense silence.

"You bored dude?" He asked suddenly.

"Out of my mind." Charlie replied hastily, gratefully accepting the offer for a conversation.

"Well, here's a crazy idea." Hurley said. "Why don't we, y'know, do something?"

"Hugo Hurley, I am shocked!" Charlie replied, smirking. "How on earth did you manage to produce such a brilliant hypothesis?"

Hurley grinned. "Any idea what you just said, dude?" He asked.

"Not a clue." replied Charlie, laughing for the first time in days.

After their chuckles had subsided, they realized that, despite each other's company, they were still bored.

"So… what'd you wanna do?' Hurley finally asked.

"I dunno, what'd you wanna do?" Charlie replied.

The two friends kept at it for hours. Considering what they had to work with, it wasn't a surprise that nothing came to them. Finally, it was Jack who came to the rescue.


	7. In Your Dreams

"I can't believe we're actually doing this." Charlie thought aloud.

"What, you've never played Name the States?" Jack asked, surprised.

Charlie shook his head, which was fair enough, considering he'd never even been to America.

"That's okay." Claire said, absentmindedly rocking Aaron in his sleep. Her son lay bundled in her arms, wrapped almost entirely in blankets. "We'll leave the easy ones for you."

Charlie grinned at her, at the same time stroking Aaron's turnip-shaped head. "Thanks."

"OK, so, who's first?" Hurley asked, faking enthusiasm, positioning the pad on his knee.

After a few times around the circle, it was clear that the already not-so-exciting game was beginning to grow even more tiresome.

"Well, I for one am having the time of my life." Sawyer drawled, and everyone turned to stare at him. "Yep, this is almost as riveting as daytime TV."

"If you don't like it, why don't you go -" Jack fired up, but was cut off by the last person he would have expected.

"He's right, Jack." Kate interrupted. "I know we don't have much to work with, but this is…"

"It can barely even be called a game." Shannon finished for her.

"You just don't like it because you haven't been able to name a single state so far." Boone retorted, and Shannon turned away sulkily.

"Hey, you know what might make this fun?" Charlie suddenly piped up. "If we had a sort of… motive."

"A motive." Kate repeated, not fully understanding.

"Yeah, like…" Charlie trailed off into thought as he pondered the most adult way to say this. "A dare. If you get one wrong, or something…"

"Chuckles, the last time I played truth or dare, I was about 7 years old." Sawyer drawled, still a bit too banged up to indulge in his usual level of sarcasm.

A small 'Aww…' swept around the group, just to degrade him further, Sawyer was sure.

"I think it sounds like fun." Shannon said, which had been expected by most.

"Why am I not surprised?" Boone muttered to himself.

"I'm sorry… were you enjoying this?" Shannon replied bitingly.

"Ah… sibling love." Charlie sighed with a cheeky grin. "Does the heart good."

This seemed enough to make them realize they were embarrassing themselves and each other, and they shut up.

"I guess we could try it." Boone relented after a minute, just a touch of sulkiness seeping through his steady tone.

It would be common at this point for the rest of the group to cheer, but in truth, they were all as bored by the idea as he was.

Their sullen attitudes were quickly replaced by a merry mood as the game launched into full swing.

Charlie's suggestion (which everyone had been so ready to criticize) had turned out to be highly entertaining for everyone, even Sawyer (who, although he had been lucky enough to not have been faced with a dare yet, he seemed to find everyone else's pain, embarrassment, disgust and tortured endurance the highlight of his day).

"What'd I tell you?" Charlie said. "This is great, huh? Everyone's having fun?"

"I think it's more like, 'Ain't it amazing what will amuse people when they're bored enough.'" Sawyer shot back. Charlie ignored him.

"Whose turn is it, then?" He asked with cheerfulness as thin as tissue paper, a vein throbbing in his temple. "Kate?"

"Nebraska." She said, with the confidence held only by the undefeated.

Charlie looked to Hurley, who scanned down the list of the already-named states with his finger.

"The reign is over!" He announced after a few seconds, and Kate's face fell. "Nebraska's already on the list!"

Some people laughed and clapped, as Kate buried her head in her hands.

"I've got one!" Shannon cried out, not waiting to be asked. "I dare you to kiss someone in this circle."

The people who had been laughing now started 'ooh'ing and 'ahh'ing, as Kate turned a dark scarlet color.

She looked around the circle reluctantly, searching for who would be her next victim. Her eyes passed over Hurley, Michael, Boone and even, to her surprise, Jack (although, she had to admit, they did linger slightly longer on the latter).

Finally, her gaze landed on Sawyer. She saw his expression change when she slowly pushed herself into a kneeling position and began walking on her knees across the circle.

A hush had descended on the cave occupants, even the storm seemed to be quieter, as Kate kneeled in front of Sawyer, staring at him with what, to the untrained eye, might have looked like reluctance.

Sawyer knew better; his expression matched hers, and it was far from reluctant. It was wondering where to begin.

Slowly, Kate leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his, savoring the moment that she would remember until the day she died.

It was no more than her intentions; she knew it couldn't go any further. Not this time anyway.

She had almost summoned enough will-power to pull away, when Sawyer broke the bounds of the friend-friend kiss, and the plan to keep it innocent was over.

A flame had erupted between them, and Kate's self-consciousness at kissing in front of the onlookers was gone. As far as they were concerned, no one was there but them.

'_Sawyer…'_

Sawyer placed one hand on her cheek, letting it roam further down her shoulder, and stop on her back. He gave her a squeeze, pulling her closer and wished this moment would never end.

'_Sawyer…'_

Kate in return was exploring Sawyers back with her hands, feeling his strong muscles. She brought her hand to his hair, and weaved her fingers in and out, letting his long hair fall back across his shoulders.

"Sawyer!"

The loud voice in his ear made him jump, and he nearly fell off the large, flat rock he had been sleeping on in the corner. Jack's face filled his vision, and he pulled back a bit, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and wrinkling his nose. Jack's expression showed that someone had made him come over to see him.

Then the realization that the past few minutes must have been a dream sank in, and disappointment washed over him. It had seemed so vivid. What he wouldn't have given for it to be real.

"Some of us are gonna play Name the States." Jack said half-heartedly. "You in?"

A cheeky grin flitted across Sawyer's face for a split-second, and he pushed himself off the rock.

"Hell, yeah." He said, following Jack towards the middle of the cave.


	8. After The Storm

It was dark, the waves crashing against the bleak shore seeming tranquil and distant compared to what they had endured for the past week or so. It was difficult to determine exactly how long they had been confined to the damp cave, time seemed to be of little importance on a deserted island, people appeared to be more interested in what you put into the time.

For Sawyer, this usually consisted of the meaningful art of sleeping. But not lately. His bones often ached, and he could put on a brave face when he was being watched, but he had to admit, the lightning strike had taken a lot out of him.

However, if he had let his mind stray just for one moment from his own personal misfortune, he may have realized just how unbelievably lucky he had been. And started to think about it…

The cave was too dark, and it stank of sweat, rotting meat and fruit and other unmentionable odors that derive from forty-eight castaways living in a cramped space for over a week without so much as a deodorant stick.

He had to get out, the cave was choking him. Still half asleep, and eyes partially closed, Sawyer clawed at the rock with his hands, pulling himself upright.

He slowly opened his eyes as the mist began to clear from his brain. Stumbling towards the cave mouth, he was barely aware of what he was doing, but actually thinking about the cave's claustrophobic effect had made it even more apparent.

His head was still clouded with the hazy blur of sleep, but something was different, he was sure of it. Or the same. He wasn't sure, but the déjà vu creeping up his spine had to mean something…

It had stopped raining.

The thought hit him full on and the impact was enough to finish waking him up. Finally, after no less than seven days, the rain had stopped.

The sky was clear, showing off the stars and the half-crescent moon. The air smelt fresh and strong, as it did after a storm. The leaves of the plants still bore jewel-like dew drops and the ground held about as much support as a bowl of oatmeal. Even now the rain had stopped there would be no leaving the cave for at least a couple more days, unless living at the bottom of a muddy swamp appealed to you.

Sawyer turned around, considering trying to re-invite the sweet bliss of sleep that he had so longed for since his life had almost been taken from him. The cave looked dark and uninviting, especially compared to the serene moonlit jungle which contrasted it.

A large boulder caught his attention as he turned his focus away from the cave mouth. It had a flat top much like the one down by the beach. He wasn't surprised he hadn't noticed this one before; when had he willingly paid a visit to Cavetown?

The boulder was close enough for him to scramble on if he tried. Sawyer looked anxiously at the forest floor. Perhaps he was overreacting, but the tales he had heard about quicksand… was there such a thing as quick mud?

Hell, the times he had wished for the ground to swallow him up whole, with the amount of rain this mud had gotten, it might do just that, unless he was careful.

A few minutes later he had managed to seat himself firmly on the boulder, on which he planned to stay until the sun came up. Not that it would make much of a difference; the moonlight was bright enough to read by. Which reminded him…

He sighed heavily. His books would probably be reduced to a papier-mâché like pulp. Now he had absolutely nothing to take his mind off their predicament.

Perhaps if he had a pen and a notepad, he would write his own stories instead of reading someone else's.

Yeah, he could keep a journal of everything that happened on the island and then, so long as they didn't rot on this godforsaken spit of land, he could sell it once he got back to the states. It would be worth a lot, after all, they'd be famous, of course. The courageous survivors of the ill-fated Oceanic Flight 815, returned to civilization after living on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere for god knows how long - how could they not be rolling in it?

Or perhaps, instead of re-writing Treasure Island, he could invent a completely fictional story, make up the characters, events, entire storyline. That would be sure to keep him busy for hours.

Realizing how uncharacteristic these thoughts were, he almost laughed out loud. Back home, he hardly ever picked up a pen (apart from 'official' business) let alone put it to paper and make words. Writing had never been his forte.

Recalling a part of his dream a few nights ago made him struggle even harder to remain silent. Even in his subconscious, he had been right; it really _was_ amazing what people would do when they were bored enough.


	9. Ambushed

Sawyer didn't feel the gentle hand on his shoulder; he was too deep in sleep. It shook him slightly, then a bit harder, causing his head to loll almost lifelessly from one side to the other.

The hand shook him harder and harder until his subconscious finally submitted to his waking mind and his eyes fluttered open, blinking and squinting against the bright morning light.

"Hey, Sleepyhead." Claire's friendly face was the first thing he saw once his eyes finally adjusted to the almost piercing sunlight.

Once Sawyer realized that the interruption of his dreams posed no danger, he sighed and leaned his head back against the cave's outer wall, closing his eyes once more.

"How may I be of service?" Sawyer asked sleepily.

"Just saving your dignity, that's all." Claire replied simply. "It seems to be pretty important to you."

"Saving my dignity." Sawyer repeated. "And just how do you figure that?"

"If you'd seen yourself all sprawled out on that rock, you'd understand." Claire said with a small giggle.

Sawyer opened one eye, surveying her with cavalier indifference. Then, with an annoyed sort of groan, he sat up on the rock and pushed himself to the edge.

"Well since I'm up…" He muttered, reaching a tentative foot down to the ground to test it. It seemed firmer than it had the night before, but there was no harm in being careful.

It's fine." Claire confirmed. "I took a walk earlier. She stared off into the distance at nothing in particular, eyes glazed. "It's finally over." She added more to herself than to anyone else.

It looked like Claire had forgotten Sawyer was there. Trusting Claire's judgment almost despite himself, he pushed himself off the rock, his feet promptly sinking at least three inches into the mud.

He swore and looked over a Claire, scowling from beneath his furrowed brows.

"Your definition of 'fine' needs some tweaking." He muttered as he stumbled sleepily off into the bushes, sinking ankle-deep into the mud each time he put his foot down, and wrenching it out for every step.

He found a good spot to take care of his business, well concealed by shrubbery. He fumbled with his fly, blinking the remaining sleep out of his eyes.

"None of us can believe it." A female voice from behind Sawyer startles him, and he spun around.

Kate was staring thoughtfully up at the sun-speckled jungle canopy. She met Sawyer's eyes. "I thought it was going to rain forever."

Sawyer stared at her for a few seconds, stunned that she didn't seem to see anything out-of-the-ordinary in what she was doing.

"What in the hell?" Sawyer managed to finally half-stutter. "Do you _mind_, Freckles?"

"Do you want me to leave?" Kate asked. It was more of a statement than a question; she knew he wanted her to stay.

"Uhh…" Sawyer didn't know what to say. If he said 'yes', then Kate would leave, but if he said 'no', she would know he wanted her to stay.

"It's okay." Kate said with a half-smile as she slowly left the clearing. "I'm going."

"Wait, you don't have to -" Sawyer called out after her, but she was already gone.

He groaned, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Sayid peered critically at the rope, before hanging the approved coil over his shoulder.

"Going somewhere?" Charlie asked, approaching him.

"Yes. I'm going to see what condition the beach is in after the storm." He replied. "You are welcome to join me."

The sound of a baby wailing met their ears, and Charlie sighed.

"Sorry, mate." He said, taking a few steps away. "Duty calls."

Sayid smiled.

"Another time, then." He said, adjusting the rope over his shoulder.

"You bet." Said Charlie.

"I'll take that offer." Kate said, pulling his attention to the mouth of the cave, where she was standing, feet coated in mud.

Sayid looked at her skeptically.

"If I were to get caught in quicksand, would you be able to pull me out with this rope?" He asked.

"I guess we'll find out." Kate replied, looking doubtfully at the rope.

After a few more seconds, Sayid sighed.

"Ok." He said and passed her one end of the rope. "Tie this to your belt."

This part of the jungle was particularly thick, and home to most of the edible fruits and berries on the island.

Jack grasped a low-hanging branch and pulled himself up into the tree. He perched on the branch and, adjusting his sack, began plucking exotic-looking fruit from the surrounding branches.

He wobbled a bit on the branch as he tried to stay on. Not that this was a first for him, but he usually opted for the more heroic stuff over foraging, and he was never much of a tree-climber back home, even as a kid.

A sudden squelching sound from below made Jack freeze. Someone was walking through the mud in his direction.

"Hello?" He called out tentatively.

There was no reply, only the slow, deliberate sound of approaching footsteps.

A chill ran up Jack's spine, and he quickly gathered his legs up onto the branch being sure to stay perfectly still.

A small gap in the leaves provided a good vantage point. He pushed back a few that were in the way, searching for the source of the sound. His heart was beating hard in his chest.

Branches rustled behind him, but before he could spin around, a heavy object caught him in the side of the head, and everything went black.


	10. Zombie

Sawyer finally stumbled into the clearing surrounding the large lake that he and Kate had found. The water was murky because of the storm, but he hadn't washed in over a week, and it was a helluva lot better than salt water.

He stripped of his shirt, and then began unbuttoning his jeans, when he caught sight of a ripple near the centre of the lake. It was moving towards him, and he could begin to make out a shape below the water.

A few seconds later, the shape broke the surface, revealing it as a woman. Not only that, a NAKED woman.

She seemed oblivious to Sawyer's presence, which was just fine for him, but for some reason, he decided that he needed to let her know he was there. Cursing the tiny particle of goodness somewhere inside him, he cleared his throat.

The woman's eyes snapped open, and she let out a little shriek, wrapping her arms around her chest and hiding all but her face under the water.

"I- I didn't know anyone else was here." She stammered.

"Likewise, sweetcheeks." Sawyer replied, making no effort to make her feel more comfortable.

"I- I'm Kelly." She said, forcing something that may, on some distant planet, be considered a smile. She could tell he was enjoying this.

"Sawyer." He answered, smirking like the cat that got the cream.

There was a long silence between them, which could only be called uncomfortable for one of the two.

"Um… I left my clothes over there…" Kelly said, gesturing to a rock by the side of the lake where some clothes were drying in a patch of sun. "Could you…"

Sawyer frowned, as if he didn't understand, and Kelly sighed anxiously, twirling her finger in a circle.

"Oh! You want me to turn around?" Sawyer asked, finally abandoning his game but not his contented smirk.

Kelly nodded impatiently.

"Well, you should have said so…" Sawyer took one last jab before turning his back to the lake, but not missing a minute of the free show, thanks to a conveniently placed puddle.

It seemed like his days were finally looking up.

"The most important rule of hunting," Locke said quietly as he and Boone crept through the undergrowth. "Is to always be alert. You must always assume that you are stalking something. One sudden movement could lose you potential prey."

Boone nodded slightly, but he wasn't really listening. Locke studied him for a second.

"Something on your mind?" He asked.

Boone turned to face the older man, wondering if he had heard right. Of _course_ something was on his mind. Hadn't they just waited out a week-long _cyclone_ win a tiny, damp cave with forty-odd strangers?

"Doesn't it strike you as odd?" Boone finally asked, wrenching his foot out of a particularly deep mud crevasse. "The storm? it was completely random."

Locke shrugged.

"This island thrives on the unexpected." He said simply.

Boone sighed. He should have expected nothing less.

"You know," Boone said, desperate to break the uncomfortable silence. "Sooner or later, there's gonna be no animals left to hunt. What then?"

"We rely on fruit and fish." Locke replied. "However, it would be foolish to wipe out the entire population of boar. When they are about to become extinct, we wait awhile, and allow them to breed."

"But what if they don't breed?" Boone pressed, his attempt to maintain the conversation weakening. "Or what if they realize they're being hunted and migrate to the other side of the -"

"Shhh!" Locke held up a silencing finger. He pointed with the other hand towards a thick wall of shrubbery off to their right. Boone cocked an ear and listened carefully. Slowly, the sound of shallow, raspy breaths could be heard from behind the shrub. He looked to Locke.

"This animal sounds injured, which will make it easier to take down, but more likely to attack when threatened." Locke drew his knife, and Boone followed suit. "Follow my lead."

Boone nodded, and in one swift movement, Locke swept away the bush and lunged into the small clearing, knife held out in front of him. Boone followed.

No sooner had the branches swung back behind them, they froze.

There was no boar in the clearing. No gazelle, mountain goat, nothing remotely resembling anything the pair might find it in their nature to hunt. But there was something, breathing heavy, rasping breaths.

"Oh my God." Boone uttered, absentmindedly letting his knife fall from his hand, spearing the ground a few inches from his foot. Even Locke was speechless.

A large tree stood in the centre of the clearing. A figure was tied to it, bound tightly to the trunk by thick rope. Bruises covered his face and arms, and a stream of partially-dried blood ran from a large gash in his forehead. His clothes were torn and caked with mud, and a sack lay at his feet, bruised but exotic-looking fruit tumbling from it.

Locke's knife joined Boone's as they rushed over to the tree, Locke supplying another knife to cut him loose.

"Can you hear me?" Boone asked the limp figure, supporting him against the tree. There was no reply. Boone swallowed the lump in his throat. "Is he…?"

Locke said nothing, which was unnerving at the best of times, but in this case it was awful. The only doctor on the island, Boone needed to be told that Jack was alive.

"Jack, come on man…" Boone said, snapping his fingers in front of Jacks face. "This isn't funny Jack, do something."

Locke took Jacks hand and pressed his fingers to his wrist.

"He has a pulse." He announced after a few seconds, letting his hand fall limply back. A wave of relief washed over Boone.

"W-what do we do?" He asked, disturbed by Jack's weak appearance. He was the leader of the group, the rock that kept everyone else safe, sane and full of hope. Automatically appointed by being the only qualified doctor on the entire island, if he were to die, they were screwed.

"We need to get him back to camp." Locke said. "Do you think you can lift him?"

Boone looked at Jack. It was hard for him to determine which of them was the heaviest, but Jack was saturated with mud which would weigh him down more.

"Yeah, I think I…" Boone's words caught in his throat as if he had suddenly become mute. Locke didn't notice at first, but Boone's attention was all on Jack as he slowly, almost mechanically lifted his head up and locked his gaze with Boone.

"Don't need to carry me." He said. His voice was completely flat, emotionless, almost eerie in the suddenly completely silent jungle. "I can walk."

The hunters would have normally laughed and hugged Jack in hysterical relief, but they just stared at him. His eyes were misty; they had a faraway look in them, as if he was staring straight through you. His voice still rang in Boone's ears, it had sounded so forsaken, almost inhuman. What had happened out here?


	11. Bone Dry

The caves and areas nearby were teeming that morning with literally happy campers. It felt wonderful to feel the fresh air (possibly even ocean air, if one were to be so daring) against such deprived bare skin, save for your feet and about three inches above the ankles.

It was a mystery as to how long this happiness was going to be allowed to continue, to all except for three.

It became apparent to the rest of them, when the trio came staggering into the campground. Boone and Locke were each supporting one of Jacks arms over their shoulders, the rest of his body dragging between them. His head hung limply forward against his chest.

Claire was the first to spot them.

"Oh my God!" She said, cradling Aaron in her arms. "What happened to him?"

"I'd rather not tell it twice." Locke replied simply, brushing past Claire. If she was offended, she didn't show it, but merely followed them into the caves.

It didn't take long to get the attention of the onlookers. They put Jack down, propping him up against the wall. His head fell onto his shoulder.

"Bloody Hell!" Charlie exclaimed, drawing everyone else's attention to the beaten man sprawled on the cave floor. "What happened to -?"

"We found Jack tied to a tree in the middle of the jungle, in a seemingly catatonic state." Locke announced to the hushed spectators. "But we realized he could talk, as if he'd been aware the whole time."

"We wanted to carry him back to camp, and he went ballistic." Boone ran his finger along a long scratch-mark on his cheek. There was blood under Jack's nails.

"For the moment he's unconscious." Locke put in, shooting a confirming glance down at the seemingly lifeless man. "No one can tell what state he'll be in when he wakes up, but I have to ask you all to have your wits about you. He's not himself."

-----------------------------------------------------

One thing that became apparent as Kate and Sayid cautiously made their way through the 'swamp' was that the further they got away from the caves, the less boggy mud they were squelching through, and the more their feet came into contact with hard, solid ground.

Neither of them spoke for a long while, but the silence was eventually broken by Kate.

"Sayid, does this seem a bit too… dry to you?" She asked the question they had both been mulling over since their surroundings had started to become less rainforest-like.

"I was thinking the same thing." Sayid replied. Of course this came as no surprise. "The ground here bears no comparison to the ground back at the caves. It's barely damp, and after seven days of rain…" He trailed off, frowning as he tried to invent an explanation. "Of course it's possible the trees could have acted as a barrier against the rain, collecting it in their branches and…"

"No." Kate shook her head, brows furrowed into a knot. "A whole week of non-stop, hurricane-style rain, it's been dry for less than 12 hours, there's no way the ground could've dried out this fast."

Sayid nodded in silent agreement. The ground was still damp, and at some points they would even feel the mud squelch between their toes, but it had nothing on what it should be like.

"This is insane." Kate continued as they neared the wall of foliage that obscured the beach from sight. Not a single drop of water clung to the leaves. "At this rate the beach will be -"

Kate couldn't finish. Sayid had just pushed the bushes aside, revealing the beach. Gasping didn't even seem appropriate; how was this possible? It wasn't possible, she was sure of it. It must be mirage, how else could this be explained?

"As dry as a bone." Sayid finished her sentence for her. They cautiously stepped through the bushes and onto the beach, as if it was all a trick and they would sink into the sand the minute they stood on it, as they should have. But no, their weight was supported by solid layers of the driest sand they had ever seen. And not only was it dry, it was _warm_. Hot, even, as though not a speck of water had touched it. It felt like it had the morning before the storm, Hot, Sunny and incredibly dry.

"This is impossible." Kate finally managed, absentmindedly toeing the sand to make sure she wasn't imagining things.

"We've got to go back and tell the others." Sayid said, turning away from the beach as if it confused him just to look at it. "Jack should know about this."

"But…" Kate couldn't think of anything else to say. She wasn't even sure why she was arguing. Maybe it was because this just didn't seem like something you blurted out, or the sort of thing that you spent two minutes looking at then walked away from. Then a thought occurred to her. "Sayid… the storm did happen, right?"

"Yes." Sayid replied without a moment's hesitation. "You must remember that stranger things have happened on this island, but we really do have to tell the others."

Finally, Kate nodded and they both turned around and began to make their way back to the caves. Kate's question of her mental health was put to rest as the mud began thickening the further away they got from the beach, but the question of the beach itself kept burning bright in her mind. She just hoped Jack would have the answer.


	12. All of the people

Charlie hummed the first few bars of the song as he fiddled with his guitar, trying to get it in tune. The more time they spent on the island the more frequently he found his guitar to be out of tune. He was worried the salt air may be eating away at the strings. If they broke, he was screwed. He plucked one very carefully, listening to the pitch. Finally, he nodded in satisfaction and began strumming.

"_What day is it? _

_And in what month _

_This clock never seemed so alive…"_

Charlie smiled as he sang. This had been his favorite song since as long as he could remember. It was one of those songs with the strange quality of having the ability to cheer him up, no matter how down he was feeling. Just what the doctor ordered.

"_I can't keep up_

_And I can't back down_

_I've been losing so much time"_

He had at first warmed to the song when he had noticed how similar it was to his own life, almost like it was describing it. Even more so, since they had landed on the island and he had become acquainted with the pretty blonde lass who he fell more and more in love with every day.

"_Cause it's you and me_

_And all of the people_

_With nothing to do_

_And nothing to lose…"_

The song was like a reflection; a perfect, whole image of his life before and after the crash. God knows he needed cheering up more than usual lately, and with Jack hoarding every last drop of alcohol on this island for medical emergencies, this song seemed to do just as well.

"How did you know?" He heard a soft voice say behind him. He stopped singing and turned around. Claire smiled as she sat down next to him, tucking her skirt underneath her. "That's my favorite song."

"It is?" Charlie asked, a wide grin creeping across his face. _Coincidence? I think not!_ Claire noticed him smiling at her.

"What is it?" She asked. Charlie shrugged, grin remaining plastered firmly to his face.

"Nothing, it's just… well, that's my favorite song too." He replied

"Really?" Claire asked, her eyes lighting up.

"Since as long as I can remember. Especially now that -" Charlie bit his tongue. He couldn't believe what he was about to say. He'd have to be more careful. He settled for an awkward, lopsided grin. "Well, how about that, eh?"

Claire giggled. She had a pretty good idea of what Charlie had just stopped himself from giving away. It was no secret that he was falling for her, only he thought it was. She was glad, too, because she was falling for him as well. That was no secret either, not to her at least. And soon it wouldn't be a secret to Charlie, either.

-----------------------------------------------------

"We need to talk to Jack." Sayid announced as he and Kate entered the cave. There were few people still remaining inside, once most of them realized they could actually leave, there was no stopping them.

"You can try." Sawyer's familiar drawl echoed from the back of the cave where he was reading a book. His uneven glasses gave his appearance a not-so-subtle comical quality. "But he don't seem to be in a very chatty mood."

Kate and Sayid followed Sawyer's gaze across to the other side of the cave where Jack lay, still firmly out cold. In the hour or so that he had been lying there, he had managed to slip down the wall a lot from the upright position he had been put there in. Now only his head rested against the wall, and he looked dreadfully uncomfortable.

It was easy to see how Kate was speechless with shock; Jack was in a terrible state. His hair was matted with blood that ran down one side of his face. He was covered with cuts and bruises. His clothes were ripped and also soaked in blood. Most of his front was caked in mud which had dried and cracked. And to top it all off, his arms had been roughly pulled behind his back and tied together at the wrists using thick rope.

"Wh- What's wrong with him?" Kate asked shakily.

"How should I know?" Sawyer replied, shrugging as if it was of no importance. "I wasn't here. But if Fred and Wilma over there know what they're talking about…" He trailed off and cast a glance over at Charlie and Claire, who were deep in a serious-looking discussion. "Oh boy, you're gonna love this one."

"What is wrong with him, Sawyer?" Kate asked again, more forcefully this time.

"Patience, girl. Rushin' things ain't gonna get you nowhere." He grinned smugly up at Kate. "You should know that."

"I see your fingernails have healed nicely." Sayid took a threatening step towards Sawyer, speaking to the southerner for the first time since entering the caves.

"Woah, Ali, don't have a fit." Sawyer drawled, doing his best to sound unperturbed by the Iraqi's threat. He smiled, as if suddenly remembering a certain pleasant detail. "Only place that'll get you is the psych ward with good ole St. Jack."

There was a pause, in which Kate and Sayid struggled to process what they had just heard. Finally, Kate broke it.

"What did you say?" She asked quietly.

"Yep, that's right. Apparently, JackO had some kinda fit out in the jungle." Sawyer replied, not bothering to hide that he was clearly taking pleasure in the way Kate's eyes began to resemble dinner plates. "Guess he finally cracked, huh? About time too, I was wondering how long -"

Sawyer stopped abruptly as Sayid's hand darted back to the hilt of his knife. Kate forced down the lump in her throat.

"Is he…" She couldn't even say it; her throat got all choked up every time she tried. She desperately looked to Sawyer for an answer, who just smiled. It was like he was mocking her, but she didn't let him see the rage that built up inside of her.

"Calm your nerves, Sweet Cheeks." He answered, leaning back against the wall. Did Jack's life really mean nothing to him? "From what I hear, he's still alive and kicking."

Kate's rage was immediately dismissed as relief flooded through her like a dam breaking. She didn't even hear Sawyer mutter 'Pity' under his breath.

"Why is he restrained?" She finally asked.

"Ah, that's the best part." Sawyer said, eager to spoil her improved mood, his cat-like grin returning to his face in an instant. "He went into some kinda mad rage, started attacking the poor hunters that found him."

Kate's face fell, and the relief was gone once again, replaced this time by shock. Could that be true? Surely, Sawyer was lying. Did they really think Jack was dangerous? How could he be? Jack was… well, maybe not the nicest or quietest person she'd ever met, but he was dedicated to his work of saving lives, why would he want to hurt one?

"What else do you know?" Sayid asked, the unspoken threat still lingering in his voice.

"Nuthin'." Sawyer replied, and Sayid began to take another step closer. "Hey, hey, don't go all Hulk on me, Abu. That's the truth, an' you're lucky I know that much."

Sayid didn't move, but neither did he move his hand from the hilt of his knife.

"He's telling the truth." Kate said, surprising all three of them, and after a few seconds, Sayid reluctantly stepped back.

Sawyer inclined his head slightly with raised brows, the silent message of 'I told you so' ringing in all their ears, then returned to his book. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was over.

Kate sighed in exasperation and stormed out of the cave in the direction of the jungle, but Sayid raced after her and caught her by the arm.

"That is not a good idea." He said matter-of-factly. "After what happened to Jack, no one should be out in the jungle. And certainly not alone."

"We don't _know_ what happened to Jack, Sayid." Kate argued, pulling her arm out of his grasp. "This is _Sawyer_; he can't be trusted, especially not with something as important as this. For all we know, he could be making the whole thing up."

"It's not worth the risk." Sayid replied simply.

After a minute, Kate relented and turned away from the jungle. She felt a tickle on her cheek and reached up to brush it away. It was at this point that Kate became aware of the stream of hot tears running down each cheek.

And no wonder. What had she felt when she saw Jack crumpled on the cave floor, lifeless and bloody? Nothing, she realized with a start. Absolutely nothing. She had trained herself to withhold her emotions from the world, and keep the waterworks for when no one was looking.

But even the strongest of dams spring a leak, and that leak can quickly lead to the whole dam breaking under the pressure. Kate realized this as she allowed herself to fall into Sayid's comforting embrace, fat tears now rushing freely down her cheeks. She didn't even care that Sayid had seen her crying. She didn't even care that he might tell Shannon (which, as a result, would spread the word around camp like wildfire in less than an hour). All she really cared about at the moment was that somehow, Jack would be okay. He had to be.


	13. Vertigo

"Boone." A voice was saying not-so-quietly in his ear. "Booone."

Boone frowned, attempting to slip back into the blissful world of sleep. It would have been easy, he was not yet truly awake, but the finger prodding in his shoulder didn't help.

"Mmmnn…" Boone murmured, squeezing his eyes tight shut. He hardly ever slept through the day, but the herbs Sun had given him for his wounds had made him drowsy.

"Booone…" The voice whispered again, and the prodding got a little harder. "Are you awake?"

"No." Boone replied sulkily. He opened one eye just enough to see the speaker through his lashes, although he already had a pretty good idea. And he wasn't disappointed. "What do you want, Shannon."

"I'm _sooo_ bored." Shannon moaned. "Whaddya wanna do?"

"Sleep." Boone replied, rolling over. He couldn't see anything, but he could practically _hear_ Shannon's face fall.

"Oh…" She mumbled in a little voice. She wasn't used to being rejected. "Um, are you sure you don't want to -"

"Tell you what, Shannon." Boone replied sleepily. "We can do each other's hair, and nails, and give each other facials, but not now."

"But when?" Shannon whined, not picking up the 'hint' of mockery seeping through in his voice.

"Just, later. Now, run along and play." His voice oozed sarcasm, and he shut his eyes, slipping back into the realms on the border of contented sleep. If it wasn't for the herbs, he never would have dreamed of going to sleep through the daytime, especially not while sharing an almost-deserted cave with the man who had attacked him only a few hours ago. True, Jack was knocked out, but how long would that last? Or, was he even knocked out? Three times, at least, Boone thought he saw Jack watching him with half-lidded, unmoving eyes, clouded, almost as if he was looking through a veil of fog.

But these worries didn't bother his mind at present. Perhaps they should have, and perhaps, if he had bothered to pay more attention to the crumpled man less than ten feet away from him, a lot of trouble and pain could have been avoided. But who are we to know what our actions may bring, especially when we are trying to rid our mind of such worries. So Boone slept. And Jack waited. And the plot got a whole lot thicker.

-----------------------------------------------------

"Locke?" Kate asked tentatively, taking a few more careful steps towards the sound coming from behind the bushes. "Is that you?"

"Back here." Locke's friendly voice returned. "What can I do for you?"

Kate and Sayid rounded the bush, standing off to the side of the clearing where Locke was skinning a large boar that was hanging by its feet from a tree.

"We need to -" Kate started, but stopped when her eyes settled on the animal. "Did you catch that just now?"

"Sure did." Locke replied with a mysterious smile, but said nothing more. Kate and Sayid were both thinking the same thing; how did he manage to catch the boar with the ground so soft, squelching every time you moved? He must be much better than any of them had thought.

"We have something you might be interested in." Sayid said, breaking the silence, to Kate's great relief.

"Oh?" Locke asked, sounding mildly interested, not looking up from the boar.

"This morning, Kate and I traveled down to the beach." Sayid continued.

"I suppose there wasn't much actual _beach_ left, hmm?" Locke said with an amused smile.

"On the contrary," Sayid corrected him. "It was in perfect condition."

This got the older man's attention, and he abandoned the boar immediately.

"Really?" It was more of a statement than a question, and there was a glint in his eye that showed he understood far more than they did. "Have you told anyone else?"

"Well, we came back with the intention of telling Jack, but -" Sayid trailed off as he felt Kate grow tense beside him. "You, Kate and I are the only ones that know."

"And that's how it should stay." Kate added. "At least until we can realistically say that the beach has dried out in the sun."

"I disagree." Locke said. "We have all been stuck in the caves for far too long. I think if the opportunity to move back to the beach presented itself, there would be very few who would question it." He raised an eyebrow. "Plus, now that there appears to be some sort of danger in the jungle, there is no doubt the beach would be the safest option."

Kate frowned as she thought it over. He was right, in one way. And sure, Sawyer, Walt and the Korean couple would probably move back to the beach without a second thought, but what about those with more curious minds, like Boone, Charlie and the college professor who lived down the far end of the beach? They would see the problem immediately.

"This is not our secret to keep." Locke insisted. "The others have as much right to the beach as we do."

"How would we tell them?" Kate asked, and although she knew he was right, she wasn't ready to admit it yet.

"Word of mouth seems to do the trick." Locke replied cheerfully. Kate sighed.

"That's not what I mean." She said, but didn't bother to elaborate. She knew when she was beaten, and threw up her hands in defeat. "I'll go find Shannon, then."

Sayid smiled while Kate pushed through the bushes out of the clearing.

"I had a feeling we might be needing her." He chuckled.

-----------------------------------------------------

Kate found Shannon leaning against the cave wall, filing her toenails. Purposely avoiding looking at Jack, she made her way over to the blonde woman.

"Shannon." She said, squatting down next to her. "Can you do a favor for me?" Shannon looked at Kate reluctantly.

"Are you gonna ask me to sort through more suitcases and other junk?" She asked apprehensively. "Coz I'm pretty busy." She rubbed her file over a rough spot on her nail, just to illustrate her point.

"No," Kate laughed. "The beach is ready for everyone to move back there, I need you to spread it around."

"But won't it be like, Slush City?" Shannon asked, furrowing her brows.

"Actually, it's just like we left it.' Kate answered, waiting to see her reaction.

"Huh." Shannon said as she considered this, then she brushed it off and got to her feet, stowing her file away safely in her bag. "Well, great. I need something to do." She cast a dirty look over at her sleeping brother as she said this last phrase.

"Thanks a bunch, Shannon." Kate said, and Shannon filled with pride at the feeling of being needed. It wasn't something she felt often, and she whistled tunelessly as she set off to spread the news.

Kate smiled as she watched Shannon go, then turned around and walked over to Boone, kneeling down beside him. She didn't want to wake him; he looked so peaceful, but he would need to know about the beach too, and he wouldn't want to wake up and find everyone gone.

"Boone." She said as quietly as possible, shaking him gently. "Wake up."

She frowned when he didn't move, and she shook him a bit harder. Still no response.

"Boone, come on." She said, louder this time. "Rise and Shine."

No movement, so sound, nothing at all. The color drained from her face. This wasn't right. She rolled up her sleeve and pressed her wrist to Boone's forehead. He was burning up. Oh no, this wasn't good.

"Jack..!" She started to call for the doctor when she remembered his condition. Dammit. This _really_ wasn't good.

She looked back at the sick man. Beads of sweat trickled down his neck and forehead, and his breath was coming out short and raspy, almost undetectable. She looked around the cave. Sawyer, still reading in the corner. He wouldn't help if Boone's life depended on it, and it might, if he wasn't given help immediately. A mother with two small children; she couldn't ask her to leave her kids alone. There were a few other people scattered around, doing nothing in particular. She had to act quickly.

"Someone get help!" She shouted. "This man is burning up!"

A few people dashed out of the cave, in search for someone that would know what to do, but the chances were slim that they'd find anyone. Jack was the only one that could really help, and he was, well, not himself, Kate thought as she sneaked a glance over at the unconscious man.

She looked back at Boone, as his breath grew more ragged. He needed help. And fast. And Kate didn't have a clue what to do. She had absolutely no idea.


	14. White Roses

**A/N:** Ok, I'm gonna start authors notes, coz everyone else seems to be doing them, so why not? Also, starting next chapter, I'm gonna do a reply to all of your reviews, so make sure you review from this chapter on, and you'll get a reply! Lol, how exciting. Maybe not, but y'know, I'm trying to give y'all an incentive to review, and I reckon it's better than insane screams of _PLEASE! _clears throat Ahem, anyway… on with the chapter!

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Shannon worked quickly, and soon, everyone was packing their things and moving back to the beach, chatting cheerfully among themselves. And on top of that, Locke had been right. So far, not a single person had wondered (aloud) how it was possible for them to all move back to the beach so soon. All they cared about was that they could.

A sudden cry drew the attention of the movers to a small man darting through the undergrowth behind them.

"Help!" Charlie called again, ducking under a low-hanging branch. "Are any of you a doctor?"

They all shook their heads and continued on their journey back to the beach.

"Nurse..?" Charlie attempted weakly. He didn't expect any of them to help. When you were stranded on an island, it was all for one.

Charlie cursed under his breath and continued on his hunt for someone with _any_ medical experience who wasn't currently unconscious.

A half hour later, he was beginning to get desperate. No one at the beach, in the jungle, or stragglers around the caves had any idea what to do in a situation such as this.

Eventually, he decided to give up and return to Kate. He'd asked everyone at least twice and there was no point in going around for thirds. He'd just have to admit to failure.

"Sorry Kate, but would you believe it," He began, trying to keep it light as he entered the cave. "Looks like Jack was the only one with any -"

He stopped as he took in the occupants of the cave. There was Jack, of course, slumped over in the corner. Then there was Kate, chewing on her lower lip anxiously as she knelt beside the sleeping Boone. His skin had broken out in a red rash and he was shivering slightly. Tending to him was a man Charlie hadn't met before. He had floppy brown hair, which he carelessly pushed out of his face, and piercing green eyes. He was rubbing a thick green paste over Boone's chest in slow, circular motions, stopping only occasionally to dip his fingers back into the cup that held the balm.

Kate looked up when Charlie spoke.

"Oh, its ok, Charlie." She said, smiling at the brown-haired man as if he was some kind of god. "We've already found someone."

"Dr. Richard Malone." The man said, extending his hand for Charlie to shake. He had just a hint of a British accent.

"Pleasure." Charlie said tartly. Was it really necessary to slip the 'Dr.' in there? "Charlie Pace."

Richard nodded curtly and went back to rubbing the paste onto Boone's rash.

"So, uh, where'd they manage to find you?" Charlie asked, squatting beside Kate. "I thought I'd scoured the entire island, and some."

Richard laughed.

"I was living down the far end of the beach when the storm hit." He explained. "I felt it was far too risky trying to make it back here before it got really bad, so I took shelter in a cave closer to my tent." He let out a shaky little laugh. "I didn't count on it going on for so long."

"Wait." Kate said sharply, her head snapping up once she processed what Richard had just said. "There are other caves?"

"Yes." He replied, sounding surprised that Kate didn't already know this. "Well, more of an outcropping in the rock, actually. Not much good against the wind, but it kept me dry enough, in any case."

"Why wasn't anyone told about this?" Kate asked.

"Well, I -" Richard began. Suddenly, Boone started having a sort of coughing fit. His breath came out raspy and his face was turning red.

"Hey, hey, it's ok, um…" Richard leaned over to calm him. "What's his name?"

"Boone" Kate replied.

"Everything's gonna be ok, Boone." He said. "But it looks like you're having some difficulty breathing, so I'm gonna need you to calm down. Count to three, then take a deep breath, can you do that?" Boone nodded weakly though a series of coughs. "Good. Now, ready? With me. One, two, three."

-----------------------------------------------------

Sawyer felt actual happiness wash over him as he saw his tent come into view. It was a friendly, familiar place, complete with airline seat and tarp roof (which had blown off in the wind, but he replaced it easily).

He hadn't realized how much he'd missed feeling the soft fabric of his chair beneath him, missed pushing the sand around between his toes as he absentmindedly turned the pages of Watership Down, or the Playboy magazine he'd found in some guy's suitcase (along with a pair of fluffy handcuffs, but that wasn't really his style)

He was amazed that (almost) everything was still in its rightful place. He didn't think about it for long, but the question of 'how' did flicker across his mind for a second, then it was gone.

Sawyer started sorting through his stuff, making sure everything was still there. He opened the first suitcase and briefly checked through. Aspirin, magazines, flashlight, canned soup and…

Something wedged down the side of the case caught his attention. He dug down with his hand and pulled out a spiral-bound notebook. Then an idea struck him.

He looked at the notebook thoughtfully for a few seconds, before getting up and hunting through the rest of the cases for a pen. Time to follow through with that journal idea.

-----------------------------------------------------

"I'm just really worried about him." Kate said as she tramped through the jungle with Claire. "Richard doesn't even know what's wrong. I just don't want to leave him."

"Hey, don't worry. He's in good hands." Claire assured her, unsuccessfully trying to disentangle her hair from Aaron's firm grip.

"Maybe." Kate said, unconvinced. "But what if he's really sick."

"I'm sure he'll be fine." Claire insisted.

"Yeah, I'm sure you're right." Kate agreed half-heartedly. "So…" She quickly tried to change the subject. "I saw you with Charlie. You two got a bit of a thing going on?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

"Maybe." Claire replied, trying to keep a straight face, but ended up giggling. "I hope so. Charlie's such a sweet guy, you know? And he loves Aaron." The baby gurgled happily at the mention of his name. "I think he likes me. I really hope he does." She trailed off, a distant smile on her face. "So, what about you? Anything steamy between you and Jack -" She stopped suddenly when she realized what she said, a look of horror on her face. "Oh no. I'm so sorry, Kate."

Kate was staring at the ground; eye's watery at the mention of Jack.

"It's ok." She said. "It wasn't your fault."

"No, but…" Claire trailed off. "God, I'm so tactless!"

"Don't worry about it." Kate insisted, wiping the potential tears from her eyes. "Really. It's no big deal." But she knew that wasn't true. Jack was a huge deal. He always would be. Except… "I'm not even sure if Jack's the one for me."

"What?" Claire asked, forgetting all about her guilt in surprise at what Kate had just said.

"Yeah, I mean, he's sweet and everything, but he's just got too much…" Kate trailed off, searching for the right word. "Responsibility. You know? Besides, I don't think he's into the whole… cuddling by the fireside thing." Claire snorted.

"And you are?" She asked, giggling.

"Well, yeah, I guess I am." Kate replied seriously, and Claire stopped laughing.

"Well, maybe he's not," She reasoned. "But I'll bet he'd be more open to it than, say, Sawyer."

"Funny you should mention him." Kate said sheepishly. Claire's eyes grew wide.

"No way!" She gasped, shifting Aaron onto her other arm. "You're not seriously into Sawyer?" Kate sighed.

"I don't know." She said. "I want to be treated well, like I'm the only other person in the world. I want him to sing '_Isn't she lovely_' to me on the beach at sunset and give me white roses." She stopped, blushing as she realized what she was saying. "Whoever 'he' is." She mumbled.

"Wow." Claire exclaimed. "Are we seeing a different side to Kate?"

"Maybe." She replied, smiling at the image her descriptions had stirred up in her mind, but that smile vanished almost instantly. "But it doesn't matter, because it's not like Sawyer would ever do that."

"Hey, you never know." Claire encouraged.

"Please." Kate said as they pushed out of the bushes and stepped into the intense heat which was the price of being a beach-dweller. She couldn't help her eyes from flickering over in the direction of Sawyer's tent. Not for long enough to really see anything, just long enough to confirm to her satisfaction that it was still there, and see its colors one more time. "I don't think so."

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It was getting dark, and everyone was settled back into their tents at the beach. Even the cave-dwellers were staying with a friend on the sandy shore; the cave had gotten too much over the past week or so. The sound of contented chatter rose from the campsite. Everyone was happy again, or as happy as possible considering the circumstances.

And somewhere, crashing through the jungle, someone was looking to change that.


	15. Clash

**A/N: **Some credits for this chap must go to hottietom. (Search for her pen name, she writes great Smallville TC!) She guest stars in this chapter as Amanda, who shows up in the second sector. Claps for hottietom! Woo! Anyway… clears throat let's have a look in the mail bag and see what we've got!

**shirik1**: Thanks! Hope you like this chapter as much!

**hottietom**: Ah, so you don't like the doc either, huh? And who said anything about Boone dying? He's sick, that's all, and whether he dies or not, well… you'll have to read on…

**Orlando-crazy**: Thank you 

**Pen Lidden**: Well you'll find out soon! And thanks, I was worried that I might be overdoing the twists and whatnot, but I guess not!  And as per request, this chapter does actually include a lot of Charlie!

Here's the next chapter, so enjoy, and make sure you don't forget to review, and I'll reply!

**-----------------------------------------------------**

It was dark, and Sawyer had been writing in his journal for a good three hours, stopping only to build and light the small camp fire that was now his only light source. He had been surprised at how much he actually had to write about. He'd never realized how much had happened since landing here until he put it down in words.

The light was growing dim, and Sawyer lowered his book to check on the fire. He jumped a little, startled. He didn't see the fire. What he did see was Jack's face, so close that it filled his entire vision. Sawyer blinked, and pulled back a little. Jack didn't move.

"Do we need to have that 'personal space' talk, JackO?" Sawyer said, placing his journal and pen on his side table. Jack didn't back off, but instead tried to push even closer. His face collided with Sawyer's palm, pushing him away. "Look, I'm flattered, really I am, but you just ain't my type."

Sawyer waited for him to leave, but still he didn't. He studied Jack. Something in his eyes unsettled him. They looked glazed, like he wasn't all there. But Sawyer had never been one to get unnerved, especially by such a minor detail. It just wasn't something that happened to him. Instead, Sawyer lost his temper.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" He yelled. "Either tell me what you want or get -"

Sawyer ended his sentence in a shout as Jack launched himself at him with a roar. He tackled him off his chair, and both men landed heavily on the ground. Jack pinned Sawyer to the ground, who screamed as he felt the other man's teeth sink into his shoulder. He managed to kick Jack off, scrambling to the entrance of his tent, holding his hand over the wound.

Jack was back on his feet almost immediately, Sawyer's blood painting his mouth. He ran at him again, pushing him to the ground.

"What the hell is your problem, you crazy son of a bitch?" Sawyer shouted at Jack. He looked around wildly for something, anything he could use as a weapon. Finally, his eyes landed on the pen on his table, and he seized it, plunging it into the other man's neck.

Jack's screams echoed around the entire beach.

Sawyer had an advantage, and he used it, scrambling through the sand as fast as he could, considering his weakened state. The blood was beginning to seep through his fingers and he was starting to feel a little lightheaded. He was not doctor, but he guessed that wasn't a good sign.

Meanwhile, Jack had wrenched the pen out of his neck and was advancing once again. Sawyer had just made it outside his tent when he felt a pair of strong hands close around his throat. _Shit._ He thought. He was already feeling faint, and cutting off his air supply didn't help. He tried to gasp for air, but it was no good. He couldn't kick Jack off either. He was about to pass out, and he was sure he wouldn't wake up this time.

"Jack!" Sawyer heard a voice scream. "What are you doing? Get off him!"

A second later, Jack was tackled off him and thrown onto the sand as though he'd been hit with a wrecking ball. Sawyer gasped and pulled in huge, grateful breaths of air.

He looked over to where Jack had been thrown. Sayid was on top of the thrashing man, wrestling with him until he was on his front in the sand. Sayid pulled Jack's hands behind his back and fought to keep him still until re-enforcements arrived. He bore a striking resemblance to a rodeo clown attempting to stay on top of a disgruntled bull, and Sawyer would have laughed, had his bleeding shoulder not been giving him so much pain, or the colored spots in front of his eyes making him dizzy.

"Oh God…" Sawyer heard a female voice say beside him. "Oh no…" He flinched as he felt cold fingers touch his wound. After a minute, he realized that the fingers and the voice belonged to Kate. She must have also been the one who screamed before.

Sawyer could hear voices, screams, could see people rushing past to restrain Jack through the colored spots dancing in front of his eyes, could smell salt, the sea, his own blood…

Then it all stopped, and everything was black.

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Charlie sat by the fire, working on a new song. He strummed a few chords.

"Hmm..." He changed frets, and tried it there. "That's better." He said, writing something down in notebook. He heard someone approaching, and turned to see a teenage girl walking towards him. She had reddish-brown hair, and big green eyes.

"Mind if I sit down?" She said, gesturing to the log he was currently using as a seat. Charlie looked up at the girl

"I don't see why not." He said, sporting a friendly smile, and turned back to his guitar, strumming a few more chords. "I'm Charlie."

"I'm Amanda. That's a nice guitar." She commented, sitting down. "I brought one on the flight too, but I never found it." She trailed off, sounding sad. "It was a great guitar, too. Schecter Diamond Series. It was black, had upside down pink flames. It went from a light pink to almost purple in this sunburst effect. There was even this awesome vine inlay on the neck." She smiled. "It cost about $650. Took forever to save up the money."

Charlie looked up from his guitar in sudden interest.

"You play?" He asked her, placing his notebook down on his other side.

"Have been about a year now." She replied, her southern accent coming out. "My dad was teaching me. Gosh, I always wanted to play like him. You know that song Eruption by Van Halen?"

"Are you kidding?" Charlie asked, turning to face the girl, forgetting that she was about ten years younger than him. "I practically worship it! That's the song that got me into playing the guitar in the first place!"

"I know! It's unbelievable. Anyways, my dad can play that. I can sit there and watch him play all day." She said, staring at the flames in front of her. "By the way, you aren't bad yourself. I've heard some of your songs. And no, not the ones you wrote on this island. I mean Drive Shaft."

"Oh yes?" He said, unable to keep the grin off his face that often showed up when meeting a fan. "You like us?"

"Well, I have to admit, you aren't my favorite." Amanda confessed. "That title goes to Green Day, Black Sabbath, and Motley Crue. But, you are good."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Black Sabbath and Motley Crue? Aren't you a bit young to know about those bands?" He said. _70's and 80's music is a teenager's favorite? I have to say, she has taste._

"Well, just because I'm young doesn't mean I'm a rock illiterate dork. Besides, -" She was cut off when someone walked over.

"Mandy, there you are!" The newcomer said, kneeling in the sand in front of her friend, so far oblivious to Charlie's presence. "Have you-"

"For the last time! Don't call me 'Mandy'!" Amanda blurted out. "Sara, how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Uh, sorry." Sara said in a rush, obviously preoccupied. "But did you see what just happened down the other end of the beach?"

"No, Sara. I haven't." She replied, obviously not very interested. She turned to Charlie, "By the way, this is Sara. She sat next to me on the flight, and we're kinda staying together." She turned back to the other girl. "What happened?"

"You know that... doctor guy?" She asked. "The one who had some sorta crazy spaz thing?"

"That would be Jack." Charlie corrected her, frowning.

"Yeah, what about him? Did he spaz out again?" She asked, now interested.

"Well, yeah. Sort of." Sara said, putting her gossip-face on, although this was much more serious. "He fully attacked that southern guy… you know, the pack rat? Bit like, a chunk out of his shoulder!" Charlie and Amanda's jaws dropped.

"Wait, let me get this straight." He said. "Jack, our Jack, out right _attacked_ Sawyer?" He asked in disbelief.

"Are you sure that's what happened? Absolutely positive?" Amanda asked, eyeing Sara.

"Well, I don't know about a chunk..." She admitted. "But he sure did bite him, and it was enough to cover a lot of the sand in blood." Sara shuddered. "Had him by the throat, too. Damn near killed him, from what I heard." Charlie started to look worried.

"Would you girls excuse me? I think I better go check in with Kate." He said hurriedly, before picking up his guitar to leave.

"Well, I might see you later, Charlie?" Amanda asked tentatively.

"Yeah, sure." Charlie replied. Even though she only looked about fourteen years old, Charlie had realized in those few short minutes that she was actually pretty cool.

Amanda smiled in satisfaction as Charlie walked away.

"Wait… did you say Charlie?" Sara asked, turning to her friend as the truth slowly dawned on her. "That's Charlie Pace from Drive Shaft, isn't it? I thought I'd seen him somewhere!"

Amanda nodded, smiling. She knew how much Sara loved Drive Shaft.

"Oh my God! I've gotta find a pen!" Sara squealed in excitement, and scurried off to the tent she shared with her friend, leaving Amanda smiling after her, and shaking her head.

-----------------------------------------------------

"Kate..?" Charlie called out cautiously, approaching Sawyer's tent. There was a soft glow coming from inside, outlining the vague silhouettes of the people moving around within. Voices could be heard too, but Charlie couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

He spotted something out of the corner of his eye, and looked down. There was something on the sand just outside the door to Sawyer's tent. In the light (or lack thereof) he could only make out dark patches, but he had a fair idea of what they were. He shivered and hurried past.

"Kate?" Charlie asked again, pushing back the tent flap which had been let down and poked his head in. His face fell when he realized that Kate and Sawyer weren't the only occupants of the tent.

"Hello again." He was greeted cheerfully by the British doctor, which seemed a little out of place after such a grim ordeal. "Charlie, wasn't it?"

"Yeah…" Charlie replied less-than enthusiastically. His eyes flitted over to Sawyer, who was sitting in his airline seat, allowing Richard to bandage his arm. Apart from the blood-soaked rags lying around him, and the faint shadow of Jack's hands around his neck, Sawyer didn't look too bad for what he'd been through.

"Is everyone ok?" Charlie asked, not wanting to specifically ask about the southern man, considering their history.

"Sawyer's fine." Kate said, and Charlie blushed. "He's lost a lot of blood, but he'll be fine so long as he rests."

"Well _yeah._" Sawyer said, scowling. "I'm just peachy, apart from the _chunk_ missing from my shoulder!"

Kate shot a pitying look at Sawyer before turning to Charlie.

"It's gonna take a while to heal…" She told him; lowering her voice so only Charlie could hear.

"Where is Jack?" Charlie asked, suddenly remembering the other competitor in the fight.

Charlie's question seemed to have caught Kate off-guard, and she stared at him for a few seconds before answering.

"He's, um…" Kate tried to get her tongue around the words that just didn't want to come out. "He's with Sayid." She turned away from Charlie to go back over to Sawyer, who was waiting patiently while his minor wounds were being tended to. It was obvious that there was so much more to it than what she was saying, but Charlie didn't press any further. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.


	16. Visitor

**A/N: **Another year, another chapter! Lol, ok, maybe not a year, but I DO apologize for the length of time I took to write this chapter, which actually isn't that long. Anyway, lets take a look in the mail bag and see what the nice reviewers have been saying…

**Orlando-crazy:** Again, thanks!

**COLEHARLEY:** Oooh, now that would be telling! I don't wanna spoil anything, but that would be a good explanation, wouldn't it?

**shirik1:** Great! Hope ya enjoy this chapter, too!

**hottietom: **lol, we sure did! And what a debut it was! And I still have NO idea where you got that crazy saying from, but I'm still using it for my msn name!

**October Sky: **Wow! Those are a lot of reviews! I can't believe you read the whole thing so quickly! Well, thanks for all of them, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last fifteen!

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The waves lapped gently against the sandy shore and the sun was gloriously high in the sky, creating the scene for the perfect day of island life.

A few young boys - including Walt - tossed a bright red Frisbee back and forth, the golden Labrador running around after it, barking excitedly. The Korean man stood waist-deep in the ocean, trying to trap the fish in a handmade net, and his wife watched him from a rock on the shore, giggling, her hand covering her mouth politely, and shouting occasional encouragements to her husband. Claire and Charlie were sitting outside Claire's tent, giggling and fussing over baby Aaron, who was gurgling happily as he stared up at the two with wide, curious eyes.

Everyone was having a good time, and once again, all Sawyer could do was watch.

It had been this way for three days now; 'Take it easy', 'Just stay there and rest', 'Don't do anything strenuous' was all he'd been hearing since the attack. Sitting still was driving him crazy, but he didn't want to accidentally pull his stitches out - yes, that's right, his stitches. He's discovered _those_ little numbers when Richard had been changing his dressing the other day. He must have been out _really_ cold for him to be able to put them in without Sawyer noticing.

He turned back to his journal with a heavy sigh. Now, where was he? _Dear Diary; attacked by a madman. Nearly killed. Nothing serious. Am v. upset. _

He sniggered as he put his pen (which had been _thoroughly_ cleaned) back to the paper and began to write again. It was a good thing that it was his left arm that was wounded, not his right, or he wouldn't even have this.

After a few minutes, a shadow fell over his book. He growled, but didn't stop writing.

"You're in my light." Sawyer said gruffly, without looking up.

The shadow moved off his book, but whoever it was didn't leave.

"Can I help you?" Sawyer asked in frustration, finally looking up from his journal.

A woman stood in his tent, a small smile playing on her face as she looked at him. She had shoulder-length black hair, pale skin and bright blue eyes. In her hand was a hand-woven flax basket covered in a banana leaf. She looked mildly familiar, but Sawyer couldn't quite place it.

"Well, I heard about your… accident." She said, choosing her words carefully. "And I wanted to bring you a muffin basket with a 'get well soon' card, but then I remembered that we're on an island, and it doesn't exactly have a bakery or gift shop or anything that might sell muffins or cards…" She stopped, realizing that she was babbling. "Anyway… I decided that this would be the next best thing. It's nothing fabulous, but…" She pulled the banana leaf off to reveal the inside contents of the basket. "Ta-da!"

Sawyer moved a little so he could see, and peered in. Lined along the bottom of the basket in neat little rows were small packages wrapped in what appeared to be more banana leaf, and tied at the top with green string.

"It's coconut." The woman explained. "I hope you like it. I know these things can get a little old when you have to eat them every day, but y'know…" She trailed off. "There's a card stuck to the bottom."

Still completely bewildered, Sawyer reached under the basket and pulled off a hand-made card, the words 'Get Well Soon' printed in bold letters across the front. He flipped it open. Inside was a message from the woman which said, with words to the effect of, exactly the same thing which was written on the outside.

He closed the card and looked up at the woman, who was still holding the basket and smiling apprehensively, obviously waiting to see if her gift was appreciated.

"Uh…" Sawyer said, not exactly sure what to say. "Do I know you?"

The woman blinked, surprised.

"Yes." She said. "Well, sort of. I'm Kelly."

Sawyer scanned his memory for a woman named Kelly. An old 'business' partner? Probably not, he worked solo. Had he slept with a Kelly? Probably, but not necessarily this one. He shook his head.

"Name doesn't ring a bell, sweetheart." Sawyer replied.

"Oh, come on… it was only a few days ago." Kelly pressed, placing the gift basket down on Sawyer's side-table. "We were at the lake… I was swimming…"

Sawyer frowned. He still didn't remember her, or this event, assuming that it was true. Kelly sighed, and reluctantly finished her sentence.

"…naked." She said, grimacing.

And suddenly, Sawyer remembered. A wide smile grew across his face.

"Ah." He said smugly. "How could I forget?"

"Yeah…" Kelly was obviously uncomfortable talking about this. "Sorry about that."

"Hey, you don't need to apologize." Sawyer replied, his cheeky smile widening to reveal his dimples. "I didn't see nothin' to complain about." Kelly's eyes went wide.

"Hey!" She said, smiling just enough for him to know that she wasn't completely furious. "You were supposed to be looking away"

Sawyer just smiled.

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"I meant to visit him that night." Kate told the Korean woman as the two walked in the direction of Richard's medical tent, which he had set up on the edge of the beach, mainly to accommodate Boone, but had been useful in recent events, too. "But things sort of… happened, and I didn't get the chance, you know?"

"The accident? Yes, I had heard of that." Sun replied, nodding. "It was surprising; I never would have believed that…" She stopped herself, realizing this probably wouldn't be Kate's discussion of choice. "I am sorry. You have talked of this enough."

Kate nodded, staring at the ground. The urge to cry whenever Jack or his 'condition' was mentioned had gone by now, but that didn't mean she was over it.

It was a good thing that they reached the tent just then, or Kate may have cried anyway.

"Hello?" She asked, swallowing her tears before they reached her eyes and pushing back the tent-flap. "Anyone home?"

"If you're looking for Richard," Boone's familiar voice rang from the back of the tent, where he was propped up in an airline chair, and covered in a warm, woolen blanket. "He's due back any minute now."

Kate smiled and ducked into the tent, taking a seat, cross-legged on the floor in front of him. Sun remained by the door, hands clasped shyly behind her back.

"Feeling better?" Kate asked, doing her best to sound cheerful. Boone nodded.

"A little." He admitted. "Apart from this rash on my side… at least I'm conscious."

Kate laughed, and patted Boone encouragingly on the arm.

"That's a good start." She said, grinning, then frowned. "Do you have any idea what caused it?"

"Well, don't write anything in concrete just yet," Richard's strong, British accent making them all jump, most of all, Sun, who politely moved aside to allow him to enter. "But I think I have a pretty good idea."

"I didn't see you there." Kate said, her heartbeat gradually slowing back to its normal pace.

"Sorry." Richard apologized, entering the tent and squatting beside Kate. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"What caused Boone's… fever?" Kate ignored Richard's apology, choosing her words carefully.

"Well, it appeared that he had some sort of allergic reaction to something… a herb, possibly." He explained. "We're just not exactly sure _what_."

Something clicked in Kate's head, and she turned around to the Korean woman.

"Sun, what was that herb you gave Boone for his wounds the day he got sick?" Kate asked.

"Oh…" Sun frowned, her brain working busily to retrieve the information behind her thoughtful eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't remember… it was a few days ago."

"Wait." Boone interrupted. "It was a flower… like a huge daisy with lots of petals, only it was orange."

"Ah." Sun nodded. "Calendula."

"Well," Richard said. "That would explain a few things." He smiled at Boone and patted him on the shoulder. "Just make sure you stay away from giant, orange flowers from now on, ok?"

"Will do, Doc." Boone replied with mock seriousness, a smile tugging at the side of his mouth.


	17. Crime and Punishment

**A/N: **Wow, a really good response to the last chapter:D I love reviews, so let's take a look at what we've got here:

**October Sky: **Yeah, I could've made it longer, but I felt it ended well there. And thanks, we may be looking at a new shipper here… Skelly!

**COLEHARLEY:** Boonie? He he, love that nickname! Anyway, glad you like the crazy Jack :p And I'm glad you like Richard, too, I think he's the sort of character that could so easily go wrong, and end up just being weird and cheesy, lol.

**Orlando-crazy:** Thank you, I plan to!

**hottietom:** Ah, yes, I've heard of that show, but I never watched, coz I'm not a big fan of Amanda Bynes. And yup, Jack's jaw must be pretty strong.

**Pen Lidden: **Thanks, that really means a lot! And I can't tell you what's wrong with Jack; would you really want me to spoil the surprise?

**shirik:** Woah! Calm down! lol, you know you've got a good review when it's all written in caps 

**Raven2004:** Yeah, I know how it is. There's this one story that I'm like that with (Metamorphosis by DemonQueen666, I highly recommend it), I just cant put it down, but I never thought my humble Lady Luck would be one of those! I'm flattered:D And thanks, I thought it was time Jack got Sawyer back, even though I love Sawyer! I feel for him, but he had it coming…

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It is very seldom that a man will give up his pride and so-called 'manliness' willingly. Not as willingly, at least, as Charlie did that day. In the simple act of picking up a pen and deciding to write a love letter, he had done, what some men may consider 'compromising his masculinity'.

From what he'd heard through, girls liked cute little gestures like this. He hoped this counted for Claire, too. Still, he couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed as he erased the 'Sincerely' from the bottom of the page and replaced it with 'love'.

He scanned the letter for what must have been the hundredth time, checking for spelling mistakes, making sure he had written the right name and that it all made sense. This wasn't something he did often, and he wanted to do it right. No, not just right. He wanted to do it _perfectly_. Because she was worth it, as quoted by L'Oreal.

He had to admit, though, it did look pretty good. Being a songwriter definitely counted for him on this one. He had a certain way with words, which allowed him to write well like this, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. Writing songs, sure, he liked that, but writing soppy love letters was a completely different story.

He sighed in satisfaction, and signed his name at the bottom. He had at one point considered an anonymous letter, but Claire would almost be sure to immediately pick him as the secret admirer, so there didn't seem to be much point in leaving his name out. Plus, he wanted to make it personal.

"Dude." Charlie quickly shoved the letter into his pocket as he heard his friend approaching. "What are you writing?"

"Nothin'" He replied, slipping the pen discreetly into his pocket. "Nothing at all, why?"

"Well, y'know…" Hurley began, frowning. "You had a piece of paper, and a pen, so…"

"Oh, that? No, no, that was, um…" Charlie searched his brain for a plausible excuse. "That was nothing."

"Hmm…" Hurley mused, folding his arms. "So you said."

For a few seconds, Charlie didn't know what to say, and he just stared at Hurley, at a complete loss for words. It wasn't until Hurley politely cleared his throat that Charlie remembered where he was, and coughed, his cheeks turning a deep shade of pink.

"Ok, well, I was just gonna head over to that doctor's tent, y'know, check up on Boone." The bigger man quickly changed the subject. "So, do you wanna come?"

"Sure." Charlie nodded immediately. Right now, he needed to spend some quality time among males, before he sprouted breasts and changed his name to 'Charlene'.

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Sayid felt the familiar feeling of discomfort as Jack came into view. Jack saw him, too, and lifted his head, but his eyes looked straight through him. A small, eerie smile which didn't reach his eyes played on his chapped lips. Sayid couldn't deny, it didn't exactly make him feel much happier about approaching the man.

"Hello Jack." Sayid said, hiding his fear behind a stony façade. "You're looking happy today. Does that mean you are feeling better?"

Of course, Jack didn't say anything, but merely continued to rock slightly from side to side, his hand, which was chained to the large piece of plane debris from the crash, knocking repeatedly against the metal.

Sayid crouched in front of him, and held up the carton of food he was carrying.

"Lunch time." He announced, producing a spoon from his back pocket. "Eat up."

Again, Jack didn't make any move to take the carton or spoon from him, which didn't surprise Sayid at all.

"You have to eat, Jack." He insisted, scooping up some of the food in the spoon and holding it out to him. "I'll spoon feed you if I have to, but you can't keep this up."

No movement on Jack's part, or any visible effort to accept the contents of the spoon. Sayid sighed heavily, and dumped the food back into the carton, placing it on the ground beside them. It was like having a child, except, Jack was probably more co-operative when he was a child.

"Fine." He gave in and stood up. "We'll try the food again later." He stared at Jack for a few seconds, trying to locate any sign of life in his eyes at all. There wasn't much. "How about we just talk?"

Sayid waited for a reaction, but of course, there wasn't one.

"I am not fooled, Jack" He told the man. "I know you can hear me, and I know you can speak. You spoke to Locke and Boone when they found you tied up in the jungle, so why not me?"

He moved a bit closer to Jack, which wasn't the most comfortable of all feelings, but he wanted to be absolutely sure that Jack could hear him crystal clear.

"Why don't you tell me, my friend," Sayid began, crouching down so they were little more than a foot apart. "What happened to you?"

Jack did nothing, but Sayid noticed his smile widen just a fraction. This was sufficient enough proof that he could, indeed, hear him.

"What's wrong with you?" He pressed. "How did this happen?"

"Malone."

Sayid literally jumped. He did a double-take and stared at Jack. Did he just speak? The voice had sounded so eerie and cold, even inhuman, not Jack's own at all, but he was sure it had come out of the man.

"What did you say?" He asked him shakily.

"It was Malone." Jack capped off his sentence with a little laugh, just to prove that, yes, he was still completely insane.

Sayid stared at Jack, wide-eyed. If what Jack was saying was true, a lot of people were in danger. He pushed himself to his feet, and, completely forgetting about the other man, sprinted off towards the beach.

-----------------------------------------------------

"Charlie, my friend!" Richard exclaimed, holding out his arms as if to hug him. Charlie was very glad he did not. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

They had run into the British doctor only a few meters away from his tent. He had just come out of the jungle, and was now walking towards the two men, smiling warmly. And just when he had thought they were safe.

"Boone." Charlie replied politely, attempting, unsuccessfully, to keep his teeth from clenching. "We were just coming to pay him a visit."

"Hmm…" Richard said, frowning. "Well, I haven't checked on him yet today, but he's been a bit quiet, so I don't know how much talking you're going to get out of him."

Charlie was about to ask why it was already midday and he still hadn't checked on his patient, when he caught sight of something moving quickly towards them out the corner of his eye. He turned to get a better look. It was Sayid, sprinting towards them from behind Richard.

"Sayid, what're you -?"

"Oof!"

Sayid ran straight at the doctor, and without slowing down, he tackled him to the ground, promptly knocking all the wind out of him.

"Dude!" Hurley yelled, speaking for the first time since they had met up with Richard. "What are you doing?"

Sayid didn't answer. Instead, he rolled Richard onto his front and pulled his arms roughly behind his back, pinning him to the ground.

"Get off me!" Richard yelled, struggling, but to no avail.

"Is there something you want to tell me, first?" Sayid asked. "Something about the misfortune of our good friend Jack?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Richard gasped, panting.

"Do not take me for a fool." Sayid warned, grasping onto the doctor's hands as he tried to pull free. "I can tell when somebody is lying to me. Perhaps you should talk to Sawyer about what happens to liars."

Richard shuddered and immediately stopped struggling. He remembered well the day he was woken up by the southern man's screams echoing from the jungle. But even so, he couldn't tell them what he'd done. He just couldn't. He had never meant for it to get so out of hand, but they wouldn't see that. They wouldn't see past his crime.

"Wise decision." Sayid remarked, but he didn't get off him. "Are you going to talk now?"

Richard thought this over. How they found this out, he didn't know, but this was not the time for such questions. He had two choices. He could either admit to his crime, and hope that he would remain relatively unscathed, or he could plead innocent, have his fingernails literally cut off his hand, then see the rest of his body slowly disappearing until the Iraqi finally forced the truth out of him, or reduced him to a bloody pulp, then killed him out of pity.

He chose the former.

"I didn't mean…" Richard was shocked to feel fat tears welling up in his eyes. "I didn't mean for it to get so… I only wanted…"

"Yeah, yeah, save it for the judge." Charlie said harshly, folding his arms. Sayid and Hurley turned to stare at him. "What?" He asked. He grinned and turned pink. "I've just always wanted to say that."

"Uh huh…" Hurley frowned, half-wondering if his friend had caught Jack's insanity. Charlie crouched by the two men on the ground.

"So, uh, what exactly are you accusing him of?" He asked.

"This man was the cause of Jack's illness." Sayid spat, looking at Richard in disgust.

"What?" Charlie's eyes went wide, and he was on his feet, backing away from the man. "How do you know?"

"Jack told me." Sayid replied. "Not to mention this man's confession -"

"Wait." Hurley interrupted, eyes big as saucers. "Jack _talked_?"

"Yes." The Iraqi answered, staring daggers at the restrained man. "'Malone' he said. 'It was Malone'"

"You don't understand!" Richard attempted again. "I didn't mean to -"

"No, I don't suppose you did." Sayid said, getting to his feet and pulling the doctor roughly with him. "Very few do."

"Yeah. You have the right to remain silent, and all that." Charlie added as Sayid marched off, holding Richard firmly by the arm.

"Dude." Hurley finally said, staring after the two. "That was _freaky_."

"I'll say." Charlie agreed. "C'mon, we can still visit Boone. He'll be wondering what all the commotion is about."

They were so close to the tent already, that all they had to do was turn around and push back the flap to reveal the inside contents of the tent.

Boone was, once again, seated comfortably in his airline chair. His head lolled forward, chin resting on his chest. He didn't seem to see them. Charlie frowned. Perhaps he was asleep.

"Rise and Shine, mate." Charlie said, stepping into the tent. Hurley followed. "It's after lunch time."

This, clearly, wasn't enough to wake Boone up, but Charlie hesitated before talking any louder.

"Should we wake him?" He asked doubtfully.

"I dunno, Dude," Hurley replied. "He looks so peaceful. But then again…"

"Ok, ok." Charlie agreed. He crouched down to Boone's level. "Hey, mate, you awake?"

"I think his eyes are open." Hurley noted.

"What?" Charlie asked, then tilted Boone's head up. "Hey man, what are you -"

Charlie ended his sentence with a loud scream and jerked his hand back, scrambling backwards through the sand.

Boone stared at them, but their eyes didn't meet. It was like he was looking straight through them. He didn't move a muscle, apart from a slow and slight rocking from side to side. His eyes were misty and faraway, and a small, eerie smile decorated his chapped lips.


	18. Plague

**A/N: **Ok, I need to make something very clear; Jate fans may appreciate a part of this chapter, but I am not one of them! Don't worry; I am still a 100 Skater! Let me explain myself; recently I had a very bad case of Jate Fever. That part was written in the climax of my illness, lol. But never fear; I am all better now! So, now that's out of the way, let's take a look in the mail bag;

**October Sky:** Actually, I've never seen Cheers, is there someone called Malone in there? And I'm guessing 'Eeek' is good? Thank you thank you thank you, and wow, that WAS a long review!

**Raven2004:** Little Sawyers sprinkled on top! Well, how can I say no to that? takes little Sawyers gives you update Pleasure doing business with you!

**hottietom:** Wow that was a strong reaction! Stronger than Jack's to his drink on the plane, anyway. Sorry, could resist, lol! You thought he was _dead_? No, no, no! I couldn't kill Boone! Not again! Boy, would that suck!

**Orlando-crazy:** lol, again… thank you.

**COLEHARLEY**: When you're good, you're good! But, could there be a factor that you haven't considered? Read on… sweeps cloak

**Pen Lidden:** Yay! Finally someone thinks it's scary! Thanks pen, and in answer to your question, I'm not sure how many chapters I'm going to end up doing, but I'm thinking somewhere around 30-40, maybe more. I'll be doing more than normal because my chapters are quite short. And just to bum myself out, this chapter is nearly 3000 words, so I guess that's not _entirely_ true, but this one is unusually long.

So, let's get on with it, then!

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Charlie's first instinct was to run. Perhaps he should have. But no, if he ran, Boone may follow, and possibly hurt other people. Possibly hurt Claire. Besides, at the moment, he didn't seem to post too much of a threat.

_Wait_. Charlie thought, the cogs in his brain suddenly clicking into action. _Didn't Sayid say that Richard was the cause of Jack's illness? He must have gotten Boone while he was taking care of him._

"Boone?" Charlie asked tentatively, poised ready to run, should he move. "Mate? You ok?"

"Dude, of course he's not ok!" Hurley said, sweating, like he did whenever he got nervous. "He caught the crazy!"

Boone let out a tiny laugh which made them both jump, as if just to illustrate Hurley's point.

"We've gotta tell someone!" The bigger man insisted.

"What and just leave him here on his own?" Charlie asked skeptically. "What if he, y'know…" He trailed off and Hurley knew that his friend was recalling the attack on Sawyer.

"Ok, we gotta tie him up, then." Hurley reasoned. "Got any rope?"

"There must be some around here somewhere." Charlie began searching through the med. tent, always keeping a wary eye on Boone, and he watched him back, which wasn't the most comfortable of all feelings.

"Dude, over to your right," Hurley directed his friend to the roll of masking tape sitting on top of a box. He had positioned himself firmly by the entrance of the tent, and he didn't plan on going any closer. Charlie spotted the roll of tape and snatched it up.

"Good enough." He said, making his way back over to where Boone sat in his seat. His eyes were fixed on Charlie, but it was like they saw right through him. He really didn't want to move him. "You think we could just sorta, y'know, tape him to his seat?"

"Nah, I don't think so, dude." Hurley replied, and pointed to a metal pole driven into the ground which was holding the tent up. "You're gonna have to put him over there." Charlie's face fell.

"Oh, alright." He grumbled, and took a few careful steps towards Boone. "Hey, mate. I'm just gonna move you over there." He looked at the man, frightened. "Please don't attack me."

"Yeah." Hurley added sarcastically. "That'll help."

Charlie frowned and turned to his friend.

"Well, I don't see you helping." He snapped, irritated. "So unless you'd like to -"

"Nah, I'm good." Hurley replied quickly. "I'll just… guard the door."

"What a noble act of bravery." Charlie muttered under his breath, as he carefully slid his arms under Boone's, and dragged him out of his seat, grunting from the effort. His face was turning red as he finally plonked Boone down in front of the pole.

"See?" Hurley said. "That wasn't so hard."

Charlie gave him a withering look as he got down on his knees behind Boone, roughly pulling his arms behind the pole and taping his wrists together. He wound the tape around 5 times, then bit the end off with his teeth.

"You think that'll be enough?" He asked, sticking the end down into place.

"Should be." Hurley said, moving anxiously from foot to foot. "Now, lets go."

"Wait, wait wait." Charlie held up a hand, rising to his feet. "I think one of us should still stay with him."

"Uh, ok…" Hurley's face fell. "I'll go find Sayid."

"Hey, I don't think so!" The smaller man argued. "_I_ will go find Sayid, and _you_ can stay here and watch the crazy guy… seeing as _I_ moved him and taped him to the pole."

His face fell even further.

"Fine." He muttered under his breath, and took a seat in the opening to the tent, legs crossed. Being in the tent with Charlie and Boone had been scary, but all alone with the mad man was downright _terrifying_.

"Uh… hey dude." He stammered, attempting a conversation to lighten the mood. "Whatcha doin'?"

-----------------------------------------------------

Jack was still reeling well after Sayid had disappeared from sight. He had talked. Actually _talked_. He had opened his mouth and formed words. If he could have smiled anything other than the eerie smirk, he would have. If he could have danced, he would have done that, too. If he could have done cartwheels and somersaults, he would have done them until the sun disappeared far below the horizon. That had been the closest he'd come to breaking out of the blinding fog that covered his conscious mind like a thick woolen blanket.

His neck still hurt like hell. It hurt, but it didn't seem to be effecting him. There was no (additional) dizziness, excessive bleeding or any vertigo other than what he was feeling now. Sayid had been kind (and brave) enough to patch his would for him, a feat, he was (nearly) sure, no one else would have dared attempt, probably not even Kate. He would certainly need a few stitches, but that didn't bother his right now.

What did bother him, though, was whatever it was that was happening to him. He could still taste Sawyer's blood in his mouth; still hear his screams echoing in his ears. He shouldn't be thinking about doing cartwheels just because he was able to form a few words. For now, he was blaming whatever was wrong with his on some unknown disease… but the symptoms were unlike any disease he had every heard of in his entire medical career. It was like an anchor, dangling on a long chain; he could never see the source of the problem, but it was always there, dragging him down slowly, one inch at a time, preventing him from moving, speaking or acting on his own free will.

He had seen the looks the rest of the castaways had been shooting his way. They were scared of him. Hell, they were _terrified_ for their _lives_. Absolutely _terrified_ that they would be next to feel his teeth sink into their shoulder… or worse. And how could he blame them? After what had happened with Sawyer, _he_ was scared, too.

He couldn't control himself, that's pretty much what it all came down to. He was like a spectator in his own body. He could see what he was doing, see the awful, disgusting things he did, but there wasn't a goddamn thing he could do about it. Jack didn't want to think about what he must look like now; grinning like a maniac and rocking back and forth like some lunatic in an insane asylum. Not to mention he was covered in cuts, bruises and a thick layer of blood.

But, what hurt the most, what utterly ripped his heart out and tore it into pieces, was not the gaping wound in the side of his neck where Sawyer had plunged the pen only a few days before, nor was it the fearful glances he was constantly being given, the way parents tugged on their children's hands if they got too close, or the little 'Shhh!' uttered by anyone having a conversation where Jack's name was mentioned. No, the absolute most gut-wrenching, hurtful thing in all of this, was that Kate had not paid him a visit, not once.

Until now.

He saw her petite frame appear over the horizon some time in mid-afternoon, a few hours after he had 'talked' to Sayid. At first, he didn't believe that she was coming to see him; he thought she must just be passing by. But no, as she got closer, a small, (if slightly forced) smile appeared on her lips, and she was looking at him.

In a way, he longed for her to come closer, to stay with him and never leave; even if he couldn't show that he knew she was there. But in another way, he wanted to scream at her to go, to run as fast as she could, and never look back. Yes, he was scared of himself. But he was scared for _her_.

Kate reached him and knelt down, taking her backpack off and laying it on the ground beside her. Every movement was careful, as if she was handling dynamite, stuffed into a precious heirloom. She may as well have been; Jack knew he could have another fit any minute, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. What's more, there was no guarantee that the chains holding him to the piece of wreckage would be able to withstand one of his bouts of rage.

He felt his head move slightly so that his eyes were in line with hers, but not fully meeting. Kate brushed a strand of dark, wispy hair out of her face, her attention never leaving Jack. She looked so sad, almost hurt by his pain. Maybe she was.

"Hey." Kate said, forcing a smile onto her face which didn't last long. "I… I, um," She stopped, uttering a small, nervous laugh. "I don't know why I'm even talking to you… you can't hear me, can you?"

_Yes!_ Jack screamed in his mind. _Yes, I can hear every word!_

Kate opened her backpack, and took out a cloth and a bottle of water. Carefully, she tipped some of the water out onto the cloth, and pressed it to Jack's forehead. The cool water felt wonderful running down his face. Slowly, she began rubbing the cloth gently over his skin, wiping away the dried blood and dirt.

"I - I wanted to apologize." She began. "For - for everything. I'm sorry that I never visited you, I'm sorry I couldn't even _look_ at you after… after…" She couldn't finish her sentence. It was just too painful.

She gave another forced laugh, and dipped her cloth back into the bottle. He eyes raised and met his, and she wasn't smiling anymore, the words she had rehearsed saying over and over in her head about to come out.

"I'm sorry I was scared of you, Jack."

Kate's eyes began to water and she looked away, the pain she was feeling showing through on her face more than ever before, her brows knotted tightly in the centre of her forehead as she forced back the tears. Jack's heart went out to her, and every muscle in his body was screaming out to comfort her, to tell her that he was alright, on the inside, anyway. But all he could do was sit there and stare at her (or, an inch or so to her left, at least) through vacant eyes.

_No._ He thought suddenly. I've _done it twice now, I can do it again, and for her, I know I can._

Kate began wiping his face again, and talking to him, but Jack wasn't listening. All his thoughts now, were focused on sending his thoughts from his brain to his mouth for Kate to hear.

_It's ok._ He thought desperately. _I can hear you, and I'm ok._

Slowly, his lips began to part.

_Yes, yes!_ He thought. _Almost there._

He kept repeating what he wanted to say in his head, willing the thoughts towards his lips. He could feel them moving ever-so slightly; vaguely mouthing the words, but no sound could come out. The effort it took to do such a simple task was unbelievable, and he knew he must be sweating like a pig.

Finally Kate stopped, her attention focused on his mouth, and her eyes were wide.

"Are - are you trying to talk to me?" She asked in stunned disbelief.

Jack knew there were no external signs of the struggle going on inside, other than the slight movement of his lips, but he was about ready to burst. Kate was staring at him in such hopeful anticipation, but he didn't know how much longer he could keep this up.

_I._ He concentrated on each word at a time. _Can. Hear. You._

But still, nothing escaped his mouth. The stress was excruciating, he would break any minute, he knew it.

_No!_ He yelled in his mind. _I WILL talk to her! She WILL know I can hear her!_

But, no sooner had he thought that, something snapped, and it was all over. The battle was lost.

Kate's face fell once she realized there was nothing more coming. Wiping a small tear from her cheek, she put the water and cloth back in her backpack.

"No." She said quietly. "Of course not." She stood up and slung the bag over her shoulder. "I'll see you later, Jack."

Kate turned and walked off before the tears came, leaving Jack alone once more, the disappointment washing over him like a wave of nausea.

-----------------------------------------------------

_Mr. Richard Malone;_

_We received your application and considered it, but we regret to inform you that the job has gone to a more suitable candidate. Our deepest apologies and best wishes for your future._

_Sincerely_

_Bob Hilton_

_Hospital C.E.O._

They were the words he had never thought he would read. Not this time anyway. Not again.

It couldn't be right. There must have been a mistake, some sort of mistake.

Picking up the phone, he pressed speed-dial, 5 and held it to his ear. It was answered on the third ring.

"Richard." The voice of an elderly man said. "I take it you got my letter?"

Richard flinched. It had always given his a fright when people answered the phone with his name. Damn Caller ID.

"I did." He replied calmly, still holding the letter in his hand. "And I've got to say, there must be some kind of mistake."

"No mistake, Richard." Bob replied harshly. "You didn't get the job."

"I - What?" For a second, Richard almost stopped breathing. He had expected a lot of things, but never this. Finally, he continued. "What do you mean, 'I didn't get the job'?"

"Just what it sounds like." Bob replied. "It went to a more suitable candidate."

"But there were no 'more suitable candidates'!" Richard protested. "I was _perfect_ for this job!"

"I'm afraid there were." Bob answered simply. "But, at least you tried."

"No!" Richard shouted, suddenly losing his temper and slamming his fist down on the counter. "I'm tired of being the underdog! I have had a goddamn _pile_ of also-rans, and I don't need another one! I was bloody _perfect_ for this job and you know it, you smug son of a -"

"Richard." The older man cut him off, seemingly unruffled by his outburst. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do."

Richard stopped and took a few deep breaths. He couldn't believe he'd lost control of himself like that. Finally, he spoke.

"Bob, we've been friends for years now, how could you do this to me?" He asked quietly. "I want this job. I _need_ this job. I flew all the way from goddamn _London_ to get this bloody job!"

"I understand that, and I can pay for your flight back home." Bob said. "I'll book you a connecting flight from L.A, so you can be out of here by tomorrow."

"No, you don't understand!" Richard attempted once more. "I am a good doctor, I can do this!"

"No, you can't." Bob said matter-of-factly. "Fact is, you just don't have what it takes to be Head of E.D. Why don't you set up a small G.P's office in the countryside, that sounds more like -"

"No!" Richard shouted again, and he could feel himself slipping back into his state of rage. "Don't you get it? I don't _want_ that job, I want _this_ job!"

The line was silent for a few seconds, then Richard finally spoke again.

"Who?" He asked deathly quietly. "Who got my job?"

"It was never _your_ job, Malone." Bob replied harshly. "And I can't tell you his identity, especially not in the mood you're in now."

"What, you think I'm gonna go kill him or something?" Richard asked, raising his voice. "You think I would _do_ that, Bob? For God's sake, I just want to know his name!"

There was a pause, and then Bob sighed.

"His name is Jack." He revealed reluctantly. "He's a surgeon. That's all I can tell you."

"A surgeon?" Richard yelled, unable to keep himself under any sort of control he may have had before. "You gave my job to a goddamned _surgeon_? What the hell were you -"

_Click_

The line went dead.


	19. Vindicated

**A/N: **Ok, had a relapse of Jate Fever, but thankfully none of it showed through here. Instead I did a very bad thing and expressed my fandom by making a Jate banner. sniffs So sorry y'all! I let you down!

wipes nose

Anyway, enough of that, on to the mail bag, and then the next chappy!

**hottietom**: lol, glad you like that line! I like it too, obviously, seeing as its my msn name! Hehehe, I find the weirdest things funny, but looks like you do to! Thanks for the review!

**Pen Lidden**: Thank you! Poor Jack, and all he did was make Kate sadder. Better luck next time, aye?

**Orlando-crazy**: I know, that would be awful wouldn't it?

**Supernaturalandlostfan**: Yeah, a lot of people seem to like the crazy factor! Actually, I've got to give the credit to hottietom for that idea of linking Malone and Jack. The thought had occurred to me before, but I only decided to include it in the story when hottietom suggested it.

**xXx-Destiny's-Angel-xXx: **I'm glad that you think it's original! And, isn't lost all about spooky coincidences?

**Lynn**: A lot of the people are getting freaked out by the sickness, Yay! Hehehe I'm glad you think my Sawyer, Charlie and Kate are good, it might help that I rpg as Sawyer on two different message boards, lol. And, I am a Skater, even though I may seem like a Jater at the moment, it's just the fever talking, don't be fooled! And just to put all the hopeless romantics out of their misery, there will be a big shipper scene coming up soon. I won't say which shipper it is, because I am not only a Skater, I also ship PB&J and Shoone, so it could be anything! I've written it already actually, I just have to slip it in somewhere.

-------------------------------------------------------

"That's all that happened, I swear!"

Sayid watched the British doctor carefully as he finished his story, arms folded across his chest. Kate stood next to him, eyes still puffy from her earlier visit to Jack, chewing on her fingernails as she, too, listened intently. Richard stared back up at them, silently begging them to believe what he had just said.

"Well." The Iraqi finally said, eyeing the other man skeptically. "I see no fault in your crimes. You clearly didn't give his the sickness directly. All you did was physically attack him, tie him to a tree in the middle of the jungle where God knows _what_ lives, and leave him to die!"

At this last phrase, Sayid lost his temper, which was not something that happened very often, and he took a few large steps towards the very frightened doctor, hands balled into fists.

"Stop, Sayid!" Kate stepped in front of him, pushing him back. Reluctantly, Sayid obliged.

"It's not like that." Richard explained after he had gotten over his fright. "I was never going to leave him to die! Just, get him out of the way for a few days."

"And what then?" Kate asked, clearly not buying his plead of innocence.

"I -" Richard began, then stopped, shame decorating his down-turned face. "I don't know." He mumbled.

"You _IDIOT_!" Sayid shouted at him. "What were you _thinking_?"

"I don't know!" Richard shouted back, anger replacing his shame. Anger at Sayid, and anger at himself. "I don't know what I was thinking!" His eyes were wet with tears. "I guess I didn't think."

He was quiet for a few seconds, hoping that his apology would be enough, and that would be the end of it. But no, it looked like the two interrogators expected a better answer from him than what he had given them. He sighed, recognizing when he was beaten.

"I envy Jack." He continued quietly. "He's everything I want to be. A great doctor, a good leader… before the crash, I applied for a job as head of E.D. in a big Australian hospital in Sydney. It was the job I'd been holding out for for what seemed like forever. Finally, I got the letter, which told me I didn't get it. I found out that the job had gone to a man, a surgeon called Jack. Thing was, he couldn't even take the job, because he had to fly to L.A. the next day." He smirked. "How's that for a coincidence?"

"You don't know…" Kate attempted. "It might not have even been him…"

"No." Richard shook his head, a wild look in his eyes from remembering his rejection. "Not possible. How many surgeons called Jack do you think were flying from Sydney to L.A. that day?" He paused. "I thought that if I could get rid of him, just for a few days, maybe I could take his place."

They were silent for a few more moments, then Sayid finally spoke, his tone laced with disgust.

"You're right." He agreed, turning to walk away. Kate followed suit. "You _weren't_ thinking."

Richards eyes widened in fear as he realized that they were going to leave him there, tied to a tree on the edge of the beach, like he had to Jack out in the jungle.

"Wait!" He yelled after them, tugging on the thick ropes which bound his hands behind his back. "Aren't you going to untie me?"

This time, it was Kate who spoke, whirling around to face him, her eyes flashing in the late afternoon sun as she approached him once more, kneeling down in front of his so they were looking eye-to-eye.

"Learn from your mistakes, Richard. She said. Her voice was dangerously quiet. "Live them, and maybe, you'll feel some tiny fraction of what you've done to Jack."

"But I didn't mean -"

Kate pressed a finger to his lips, cutting him off. Her expression was one of disgust, fury, hatred; just a few of the emotions she was feeling towards the man right now. She rose to her feet.

"Like hell you didn't."

-----------------------------------------------------

"Sayid!" Charlie called out, jogging up to the man he had been hunting for. The Iraqi turned around as he heard his name. "Sayid, we have a problem."

"What sort of problem?" He asked the other man with a silent groan. The _last_ thing they all needed now was _another_ problem.

"There's another one." Charlie puffed, doubling over to get his breath back.

"Another what?" Sayid asked, but he had a feeling that he already knew. He just didn't want to make assumptions until he was sure what was going on.

"Like Jack." The British man said, finally straightening up. "There's another one."

"Who?" Was all Sayid could manage. If this 'sickness' was contagious, then they were all going to be in a _lot_ of trouble.

"Boone." Replied Charlie. "It's Boone."

Sayid threw his hands up and muttered a curse under his breath.

"Great." He said. "It couldn't be someone who sits around all day, no, but one of the biggest contributors to our community."

"Sayid." Charlie frowned. "This is about Boone, not -"

"I know." Sayid answered. "I'm sorry." He paused. "I'm just thinking about the rest of us."

Charlie nodded. Suddenly, a thought occurred to the other man.

"You didn't leave him by himself?" He asked.

"No." Charlie shook his head. "We duct-taped him to a pole, and Hurley's keeping and eye on him."

"Alone?" Sayid asked, worried.

"Well… yeah." Charlie replied. "But he's y'know, restrained and all that, so it should be ok, right?"

Sayid paused before he answered them. Wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, he gave a single nod.

"I think you'd better show me where they are."

-----------------------------------------------------

Shannon pushed her toes through the sand as she watched the sun go down, the sky splashed with bright pink and orange bathing the island in a delicate rose hue. It would have been nice, beautiful even, if it hadn't been for the circumstances. At the moment, she didn't even register the beauty of the scene; her troubled mind was elsewhere.

_I wish I could surrender my soul_

_Shed the clothes that become my skin_

_See the liar that burns within my needing_

She hummed quietly, not actually forming any words, but the tune of her favorite sad song was enough to set her off. She wiped the stray tears from her cheeks and pulled her knees closer to her chest. She had cried enough for today, but somehow she felt like she needed more. Her eyes were sore and red from rubbing to tears away.

_How I wish I'd chosen darkness from cold_

_How I wish I had screamed out loud_

_Instead I've found no meaning_

It was so hard to come to terms with what had happened. This wasn't the sort of thing that _happened_ to people in their family. It just wasn't _normal_. She knew that no one had cried (this much, at least) when the same thing had happened to Jack, but this time it was different. _So_ different. This time the grief was on _her_.

_I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain_

_All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble_

_Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray_

She knew that he hadn't died… yet. Who knows how bad the disease might get? And if he did live, so what? He'd just sit in one place, like a vegetable, possibly sometimes managing a few meaningless words and attacking an innocent person? That wasn't living. He would probably prefer death.

_I've heard what they say, but I'm not here for trouble_

_It's more than just words;_

_It's just tears and rain_

"I'm guessing you heard."

Shannon jumped at the sound of the voice; she hadn't been expecting company. And, seated at this far corner of the beach, she had thought no one would be around to stumble upon her, either. Looks like she was wrong. Squinting against the streaks of sunlight cast across the sky, she looked up at the speaker.

"You guessed right." Shannon replied, allowing her eyes to wander back towards the ocean as Kate took a seat in the sand next to her. For a few minutes, they were quiet, neither of them really knowing what to say, or particularly wanting to be the first to break the silence.

"Have you been to see him yet?" Kate finally asked.

"No." Shannon shook her head. "And I'm not going to."

Kate bit her lip. Shannon sounded so selfish and uncaring for her brothers 'condition'. She wasn't going to tell her, though; if she was already upset, being accused of being self-centered (once again) would be the last thing she needed. Instead, Kate spoke gently to her.

"I understand that you're hurting, Shannon," She began. "But separating yourself from your brother isn't going to make you feel better." She paused. "Or him."

"As if he'll even know if I do visit him." Shannon grumbled. "It's not like he's," She paused, searching for the right word. "y'know…"

"We don't know if the victims of this disease are aware of what's going on or not, Shannon." Kate explained. "But how do you think Boone would feel if he could -"

"Shut up!" Shannon yelled, squeezing her eyes tight shut and grabbing on to fistfuls of her hair. "Just shut up! I don't _want_ to, ok?"

It was then that Kate realized that Shannon's eyes were puffy. She must have been crying. God, what had she done? Why couldn't she just take a hint and leave her alone? She looked at the ground, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry." She apologized softly. "Of course you don't have to."

The tears had begun to roll quietly down Shannon's cheeks once more, but she didn't bother to wipe them away this time, or even try to hide the face that she was crying.

"I - I just _can't_." She sniffled. "I saw how seeing Jack that way destroyed you…" Kate pursed her lips and wiped a few stray tears from her own eyes. "I just - just… don't want that."

Kate nodded, understanding what the blonde woman was saying completely. She looked over at her.

"You want to remember him the way he was." It was more of a statement than a question.

Shannon turned her sad eyes towards Kate.

"You say it as if he's never gonna get better." She said. Of course, she had no idea. Kate said nothing and looked away. It was enough to get the message through to Shannon, and she looked away too, biting down on her lip to stop the tears flowing once more.

"Kate." Kate spun around at the sound of Sayid's voice. "May I speak with you?"

"Of course." She pushed herself to her feet. "I'll see you later, Shannon." She gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. "Make sure you come to dinner tonight. Starving yourself isn't going to make matters any better."

"She's in shock." Sayid remarked quietly as the two walked slowly off down the beach.

"Yeah." Kate nodded, looking sadly back at the girl, knees drawn up to her chest, staring vacantly out to the ocean as if nothing else was worth doing. "She's taking it pretty hard."

"It can only be expected." Sayid agreed.

"Speaking of which…" Kate began. "Any update?"

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." He said. "I have a theory."

Kate was silent, ready to listen. Sayid was a well-educated man; if he had a theory, it was probably closer than any of them were going to get to the truth about this mysterious illness.

"It became apparent to me this afternoon," Sayid began. "That the virus is probably transferred by blood contact. When the two hunters found Jack, he was covered in fresh cuts and scrapes; any one of them could have gotten infected with the disease."

"That's true." Kate agreed. "But what about Boone?"

"Do you not recall Boone gesturing to a long scratch on his face from the struggle they had had with Jack?" Sayid asked.

"Oh…" Kate breathed, covering her mouth with her hand. _Of Course._

"So the infection is transferred from one blood to another." The Iraqi explained. "But, you may have noticed that Boone didn't get sick until a few days after Jack scratched him, yes?"

"The thought did cross my mind." Kate admitted.

"Well, I concluded that the virus must be either slow-acting," Sayid paused, giving Kate time to consider this, then he continued. "Or, it's possible that this disease is too weak to infect a strong human body; such as Jack or Boone. A child or elderly person may be more at risk, because their immune system is weaker. But, suppose a person's physical health is lessened, by say, an injury or flu… or an allergic reaction to an exotic plant." He raised an eyebrow at Kate, who's brows gathered in the centre of her forehead, thinking this over. "Surely, then, the virus should be able to invade the vessel? Did it not strike you as odd that Boone became ill so soon after he had the allergic reaction to the herb?"

Kate nodded. His theory made sense. After all, it was quite a coincidence.

"Which brings me to another point." Sayid continued, and Kate looked back at him. "Tell me, Kate, can you name one other person on this island who has had contact with infected blood and is currently in a physically weakened state?"

The sun had practically disappeared now, the only light source being a few scattered campfires further down the beach, but the fear in Kate's eyes was all too clear. Of course; how could she not have figured this sooner? It was so obvious what must have happened, that she couldn't believe she hadn't realized that he was in danger. Perhaps she may have even been able to stop the symptoms of the mystery illness, which had surely taken him over by now.

In a quiet, terrified whisper, she breathed;

"_Sawyer_."


	20. Sacrifices

**A/N: **Alright, I'll admit it… this chapter did take longer to write than I thought it would. But it's here now, so all is forgiven, right?

…

Right?

dodges flying tomato

Alright, who threw that?

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**COLEHARLEY:** I plan to! Thanks, Coleharley.

**Amber85:** It is a beautiful song, isn't it? I love James Blunt too (I just bought the cd!) and I thought that song would fit nicely in there. It's been my second favorite ever since I bought the cd, after Goodbye My Lover (THE saddest song in the world, by the way! cries)

**hottietom:** Aw, you think the Shannon scene was sad? Well, thanks! That's what I was aiming for, after all! And yes, he may catch the crazy… or he may not. Just don't give anything away for my friendly readers… or they may not be friendly for much longer. Remember; you're my editor, not my advertiser. 

**xXx-Destiny's-Angel-xXx:** Thanks for the positive feedback! That really means a lot!

**October Sky:** Ah, you have many questions, young grasshopper. Patience, you must have. All will be revealed in time.

**Orlando-crazy:** Poor Sawyer indeed! I'm almost beginning to feel guilty!

**GoldPhoenix1:** Wow! This is your favorite story? I'm flattered! Thank you so much, that really means a lot! I never would have thought I would even make someone's favorite list, with all the wonderful fics you see floating around these days. Again, thank you!

Shall we take a look at the next chapter, then?

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Sawyer sat perfectly still in his tent, just thinking. He had been reading back through what he had written in his journal, and noticed a few interesting things. He had been thinking for quite some time now, and it wasn't the weather which was on his mind.

It was his lucky escape, and surprisingly speedy recovery. Of course, he wasn't fully recovered, but far more than he should be. And that wasn't where it ended. What about the small things, which he probably wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't actually sat down and thought about it? What about the conveniently placed puddle at the lake? What about finding the pen and diary just when he had needed them? Not to mention his amazing luck for surviving two - count 'em, _two_ - lightning strikes?

Ever since the nearly fatal second strike, he had noticed his luck beginning to improve dramatically, starting, of course, with the basic, yet significant fact of his own survival. There were so many things he could recall that just seemed far too much in his favor; it was truly incredible he hadn't noticed it until now. The more he thought about it, the more he began to believe; it wasn't luck. It was phenomenon.

Sawyer played with the coin between his fingers, contemplating his next move. It was some sort of foreign coin; silver, about two centimeters in diameter, and with a big engraved picture of a sailing ship filing the whole of one side. Underneath, Sawyer could make out the tiny carved words spelling out; _Endeavor_.

He twirled the coin around in his fingers a few more times, then placed it between his thumb knuckle and index finger, ready to flip. This test should prove right or wrong his theory, or at least give him a good enough reason to pretend.

"Sawyer!" Kate's voice rose to a shrill peak as she skidded to a halt in the doorway of Sawyer's tent, closely followed by Sayid.

"Well, hell Freckles." He easily contained his surprise, hiding it behind a cat-like smirk. "I'm pleased to see you too."

The two newcomers, however, did not have as much luck hiding their shock, Kate especially, who was staring at Sawyer with wide eyes.

"Why… but…" She stammered. "You're not sick."

"Not so far as I know, Puddin'" Sawyer replied, shifting his shoulder slightly, gritting his teeth as an arrow of pain shot down from the wound. The pain killers Malone had given him were quickly wearing off. _Dammit_. "But hell, since you're here, may as well do the routine check-up, full cavity search and all that jazz. Tropical island, all sorts of nasty diseases floating around, better safe than sorry wouldn't you say, Freckles?" He turned his attention to Sayid. "What's with the house call, Ali? Looking to take the reins of this goddamned rock now that the Doc's out of the picture? I always thought you -"

"Don't." Kate cut him off sharply. "Don't say it like he isn't gonna get better." She waited for Sayid to back her up, but nothing came. "He's gonna get better."

"Yeah." Sawyer's tone of voice and expression were slightly off his usual sarcasm, but had the hint of sadness possessed by someone who was remembering something they would rather forget. Nevertheless, the mocking was still there. "It's nice to pretend, isn't it?"

Kate stared at Sawyer for a few seconds with sad eyes, haunted by her pain, haunted by Jack. They seemed to speak to Sawyer, to ask him why he had to take away what little hope she may have salvaged since the doctor got sick. Why he tried to help destroy her.

"Whether or not Jack gets better is another matter." Sayid broke the silence. "Right now, our main concern is the possible new victim of the sickness."

"Oh yeah?" Sawyer asked rudely. "And who's that?"

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, a cold chill flooded into his body, and he realized what Sayid meant; _who_ Sayid meant, and the look the Iraqi gave him only confirmed it. It was him.

-----------------------------------------------------

Sawyer's head hung limply, bouncing off his chest with every step Kate and Sayid took. They each supported one of his arms around their shoulders, letting his body hang between them; his feet dragging thought the sand, leaving deep tracks.

"Was it really necessary to hit him?" Kate finally asked Sayid, grunting slightly under Sawyer's weight.

The Iraqi paused before answering, considering his reply.

"Probably not." He admitted. "Although, it was unlikely that he would have come willingly."

"Unlikely." Kate echoed. "Hmm."

"Dudes." They both turned their heads towards the voice, and saw Hurley sitting cross-legged beside a fire, poking it with a stick and looking up at them curiously. "What're you doing?" He spotted Sawyer hanging lifelessly between them, and his eyes grew wide in understanding. "Aw, man… déjà vu. You're not gonna… what's he keeping from you this time?"

"It's not like that." Sayid assured the bigger man, shifting Sawyer's arm into a more comfortable position. "There's a chance he may have caught the disease. We need to keep him tied up until we know for sure… one way or the other."

"Oh." Hurley said, as if the idea of Sawyer catching the infamous disease was perfectly ok. He nodded and turned back to the fire, leaving Kate and Sayid to carry on past.

As soon as the piece of heavy plane debris came into sight, Kate felt the familiar tingle run down her spine. Jack was here. So was it, but he wasn't her main concern. Apart from her being… emotionally attached to the doctor, he was also further along in the sickness. Whatever new and exciting symptoms this disease had in store, he would be the first to experience them.

They got closer, and the two men came into view. Jack and Boone were both tied to the piece of metal, little more than two meters apart. They were rocking back and forth in a slow, almost hypnotic motion. To think that Sawyer may soon join them made Kate's eyes sting with threatening tears. She quickly wiped them away before Sayid noticed.

"Let's put him over here." The Iraqi suggested, pointing to a part of the metal a few meters from Boone. "If this disease is contagious in other ways than just blood, he should be too close."

"Good thinking." Kate nodded, and began to steer Sawyer in the direction Sayid had pointed. They sat him down, and bound one hand tightly to the metal.

Sayid stood up and brushed his hands off, letting out a satisfied sigh, but Kate stayed kneeling. She stared into Sawyer's face, brushing a few strands of dirty-blonde hair out of the way. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep - well, knocked out - almost innocent. Suddenly, kneeling in front of a tied-up Sawyer seemed way too familiar, and she stood up quickly, shoving her hands deep down into her pockets.

"We should go." She suggested to Sayid. "It won't be safe around these parts once Hurricane Sawyer hits."

A small smile played on Sayid's lips.

"I think that is a wise decision." He agreed, turning away from the three men. "One of us can check back on him in a couple of hours."

Kate swallowed hard. What if they came back and he was already sick? But, somehow, her feet allowed her to turn and follow Sayid back to the main part of the beach without casting a glance behind her, for what she knew could very well be the last time.

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It was dark, but not that late, when Sawyer finally stirred. The first thing he noticed was that he was outside, not in his tent like he had expected to be. As his conscious mind adjusted to being put to use, he also realized that there was a thick rope tied around the wrist of his right hand, the other end bound tightly to the same piece of metal which Jack an Boone were tied to.

The cogs in his brain finally clicked, and he jerked fully awake. He tugged at the rope which bound him to the wreckage, but it was tied too tight, and in such a way that his other hand couldn't reach it. He let out a roar of fury and kicked the sand. Not the most terrifying of actions, but there wasn't much else he could do in his current position.

"I see you're awake." The Iraqi man's voice echoed from somewhere off to his left, where he had been sitting on a rock. Sawyer started; he hadn't noticed him there in the dark.

"Awake?" Sawyer growled bitingly. "Don't you mean _'regained consciousness'_ after you knocked me out, you bastard? What the hell did I do to you? You gonna rip my fingernails off again, or go for the whole hand this time? Heck, maybe the whole arm, got nothing to lose. 'Cept for a vital limb, but what the hell…"

"Sawyer." Sayid cut him off. "Stop."

And surprisingly, Sawyer stopped.

"It's not like that." The Iraqi explained. "I tied you up through no fault of your own."

"Well, that's ok then." Sawyer interrupted sarcastically. "Just as long as it wasn't my fault."

"There's a chance you could have the disease." He continued, paying no attention to the interruption. "I need to keep you restrained until we know for sure."

"How the hell can you not 'know for sure'?" Sawyer asked bitterly. "Do I look like them? No. I can move and talk and I haven't ripped anyone apart yet, so that's a pretty clean medical record if you ask -"

"It's not the fact that we've seen the symptoms in you." It was Sayid's turn to butt in. "We may have worked out how the disease is spread."

"Oh yeah, Ali?" Sawyer taunted. "And how's that?"

"Basically, through direct blood contact with someone who is infected." Sayid almost smiled when he saw Sawyer's face fall in realization, but caught himself. _What goes around comes around._ He reminded himself. _You shouldn't wish this sickness on anybody._ "Were you not recently attacked by Jack?"

Sawyer was quiet for a moment, thinking. His first thought was that he was done for. It was all over. If this disease claimed him, it would not give him back, he was damn sure of that. Just like he was damn sure it wouldn't give back Jack or Boone. But these thoughts were soon joined by a second thought. Doubt.

He raised his eyes to meet Sayid's, his brows knotted together in a mixed expression of fury and fear.

"How do you know?" He growled. "You ain't no doctor, no one here is, 'part from Malone, but you seem to have taken care of _him_. Nice." He paused, hoping the Iraqi was feeling guilty, even though he himself wasn't about to hop on board the 'I love Richard' bandwagon, neither was he a candidate for Sayid's fan club. "How do I know you ain't screwing with me?"

Sayid looked at Sawyer for a few seconds with sad eyes. Perhaps it was in the southern man's nature to suspect such things of people. If that was so, he had to admit; he pitied the man.

"Because I don't do things like that." Sayid replied calmly. "I am not saying that you have this disease, or even that you necessarily will get it. All I am saying is that it would be wise to take precautions. And," He eyed the rope that tied Sawyer to the metal. "Considering the symptoms of this disease, that means keeping you tied up."

For the first time in his life, Sawyer didn't fight back. He didn't argue, and he didn't try to persuade Sayid to untie him. He just hung his head and accepted it, the anger draining out of him as if an imaginary plug had been pulled.

Jack had attacked him when he was 'sick'. He had ripped into his shoulder with his teeth and strangled him. Sawyer had nearly died. He wasn't normally a touchy-feely guy, but he couldn't take it if he did that to someone else. Especially not…

No. He couldn't even think it. But there was one thing he did know; there was no way he would be responsible for any of her pain - or worse. And if sacrifices had to be made to ensure that, then sacrifices he would make.

Because that was what it was all about. Whatever _this_ was, what he was feeling all of a sudden.

It was about making sacrifices.


	21. Affinity

**A/N:** So, it's been a while, huh? I figured I owed myself a break, and I kind of lost interest in the story for a while, which didn't help with the writers block. But you know what? - and this is completely honest. After six or seven months of being totally uninterested in continuing this fic, it was reading through all the awesome reviews you guys left me on the previous chapters which suddenly got me inspired to start writing again. How about that, huh? So anyway, you should be seeing pretty regular updates from now on, and I hope I haven't lost any of my readers by taking such a huge break. And thanks to everyone that ever left me a review, because if it weren't for you guys, I would have given up on writing a long time ago. You guys rock!

**Orlando-crazy:** Thank you so much! I'm really glad you enjoyed it.

**DownwiththeSupernatural:** Yeah, it's sweet, isn't it? Sawyer's such a softie in the inside :p Thanks for reading and I hope you and the other readers enjoy this chapter, too.

**dancingirl87**: Thanks for your review! Even if it is your first, it's great that you've been reading and enjoying this fic  I really appreciate your feedback.

**hottietom:** Lol, you have to wait to read this like everyone else coz as soon as I'm finished a chapter and proofread it, I post it! I'd give it to ya to read first, but there's not much time in between :p

**Amber85:** Ooh, thank you! I hope you enjoy this one just as much!

**xXx-Destinys-Angel-xXx:** Oh wow, that's some major respect, thank you so much! The best story ever? Wow. Just… thanks.

**October Sky:** Hehe, thank you! I've been told I have a skill for Sawyer one-liners, but I don't know if it's one of the best :p Thanks anyway, though!

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It was morning; the troubles and worries of the night before washing away with the clear stream water that Sayid splashed against his face. The thin shafts of light casting through the jungle canopy made the scene appear tranquil, quiet, untouched. The Iraqi man smiled as an exotic bird flitted past him from tree to tree.

He dried his face off with the rag he had brought with him, and stood up.

"Why not use the water from the beach?" A voice with a heavy French accent spoke. It came from behind him, and Sayid jumped and spun around.

It was a woman, with long dark hair. She was dressed scruffily, in a singlet and baggy pants, an old sweater tied around her waist and knotted at the front. She had an equally scruffy backpack slung over one bare shoulder, a dirty hand clutching the strap tightly. She was smiling.

For a few seconds, Sayid just stood there in shock. He wasn't sure what to say or do, the visitor had been unexpected, but - Sayid realized - nevertheless, welcome. He smiled too.

"Salt water dries the skin." He replied, offering his hand for her to shake. "It is good to see you again, Danielle."

"_Et vous, mon ami_" She replied, accepting the gesture. "And you."

"I have not seen you in this part of the jungle before." The Iraqi man commented. "Do you often stray so far from your home?"

An odd, slightly pained and distant expression appeared on her face at these words.

"Yes, I suppose it is my home now." She let out a bitter, ironic laugh. "My _maison_. I had never thought of it that way before." She gazed at Sayid, as if she had only just remembered he was there.

The uncomfortable silence between them lasted only a few seconds, before Danielle broke it.

"How have you been?" She asked. "And your people?"

"Not well, I'm afraid." Sayid replied with a heavy sigh.

"Oh?" Danielle asked, a concerned expression on her dirty face.

Sayid paused, wondering exactly how to put this. Danielle had spoken before of a 'sickness'. Perhaps she would know what he was talking about.

"There has been a …disease." Sayid spoke, choosing his words carefully. "Very contagious. We believe it is being spread by blood contact with the infected. Already two of our people have it, and a third may, too, be infected."

Danielle's eyes were wide, and her voice shook with fear. "Th… the sickness!" She stammered.

Sayid didn't know whether to be worried or relieved. "So you know of it?" He asked.

"It wiped out everyone…" Danielle's eyes were distant. "My team. My… my family. No one stood a chance, it just spread so quickly."

"And why did you not get it?" Sayid arched an eyebrow. "What made you the only survivor?"

Danielle met his eyes, but did not answer him.

"Danielle, you must tell me anything you know about this sickness." Sayid begged. "Anything at all. I do not know how much time my friends have left."

"Your friends are already dead, Sayid." Danielle barked. "They are no longer the people you thought you knew… do not make the mistake of trusting them." She paused, noting the shock on Sayid's face. "Give up on them now because there is nothing you can do for them."

Sayid was speechless. The certainty in Rousseau's voice was unnerving. He didn't want to believe that there was no hope left for Jack and Boone, but Danielle had been through this before. If anyone knew what effects this disease had, she would.

"Listen to me, Sayid." Danielle continued, taking a few steps toward the Iraqi. "You must make absolutely sure that these men are not a danger to the rest of your community."

Sayid nodded. "They are chained up at the beach as we speak. The security on them couldn't be higher."

Danielle's thin lips stretched into a grim smile which didn't reach her eyes. Something in the way she looked at him troubled Sayid, and as she reached around for something she was carrying over her shoulder, he grew even more uneasy.

"Sayid." She said, producing her rifle and holding it out to Sayid. "You misunderstand me."

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The lack of proper curtains on the island had been hell for Sawyers sleeping schedule. Since landing, he had never been able to sleep much past seven, not that time mattered on an island. Even so, it was something else he had to adjust to, especially when his usual rising time has been well after they stopped serving breakfast at his favorite café. And on this particular morning, his early awakening didn't do much to improve his mood.

His back and neck ached from the awkward slouching position he had slept in. His arms were numb from being tied up, and there were rope burns on his wrists.

Sawyer cast a wary glance over at Jack and Boone, who were swaying from side to side, only meters away. They were awake, too, it seemed. Honestly, Sawyer doubted if they'd even been asleep at all.

"Mornin' fellas." Sawyer drawled with fake cheerfulness. In reality, he was feeling anything but cheerful. He was awake much too early, he ached and he was chained to a hunk of metal with two escapees from the loony bin. That was the makings of a terrific morning right there.

He wondered how long they were gonna leave him here. The suspense was driving him nuts. He was no stranger to having his hands tied behind his back, nor escaping from it, and he's be out of here in an instant if it wasn't for the nagging fear that he might actually have the sickness, and if he did, he might hurt Kate… or worse.

Kate. She was the only one he was worried about. The rest of the castaways? Screw 'em. They'd done nothing but hate him since day one of landing here, and Sawyer had never cared. And he sure as hell wasn't gonna start caring now. Just so long as Kate remained safe, he wouldn't bat an eyelid if the whole goddamn island got infected with this disease… him included, he realized with a start. Him included. Just so long as Kate was okay.

He knew that now. And there was only one person he needed to tell.

Her.

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"Morning, Shannon." Kate took a seat beside her friend in the warm sand. "It was good to see you at breakfast."

"Of course." Shannon replied dryly. "How could I miss out on yet another serving of the island's finest?"

Kate smiled. She wasn't the only one getting sick of the taste of mango and coconut.

"I saw you and Sayid dragging Sawyer away yesterday." Shannon said casually, after a pause. "You wanna tell me what that's about?"

Kate paused. Obviously, she had known that Sawyer's 'capture' wouldn't go unnoticed. She just didn't know if she was ready to talk about it yet, especially considering the possibility of Sawyer catching the disease, too.

"Kate?" Shannon pressed.

"Uh, yeah." Kate snapped out of her thoughts, facing Shannon again. "It was… nothing, really. We just need to keep an eye on him."

"Why?" Shannon asked. Kate sighed; _there was no pleasing this girl_.

"There's a possibility that he might have the same… sickness that Boone and Jack have." Kate revealed. She saw Shannon flinch at the mention of her brother's name, as if she'd been jabbed in the ribs. "We need to keep him tied up until we're sure."

Shannon was silent for a while, her eyes fixed firmly on the white sea spray crashing onto the shore. Her best defense mechanism was to avoid her problems, and just pretend they weren't there at all. The only problem with that, however, was that everyone kept bringing them up. How was she supposed to pretend that everything was fine if people kept reminding her that it wasn't? She heaved a sigh, running her hand over the sand and letting the grains sift through her fingers.

"Well, good." Shannon finally said, facing Kate. "You know, it's about time something bad happened to someone who actually _deserves_ it, for a change."

Kate's brows knitted tight in disbelief. "You don't mean that." She said. "I know you're hurting, Shannon, but no one deserves this sickness. Not even Sawyer." She paused. _Especially not Sawyer._

This time, it was Shannon's turn to frown. "Why are you standing up for him?"

Kate was silent as she pushed a stray curl behind her ear. She wasn't sure what to say. She knew what she _wanted_ to say; at least that much was finally clear. The fluttering in her chest, the tug on her heartstrings. _Because I love him_. Nothing could be clearer, and yet she wasn't quite ready to admit it.

Kate smiled slightly, a small, private smile meant only for her and one other person, and she turned back to Shannon.

"I don't know."


End file.
